"I know it," Malone said. "I know it altogether too well."
"Anyhow," Boyd said, brightening, "the costume shop doesn't do us any good. They've only got cowboy stuff and bullfighters' costumes and Mexican stuff—you know, for their Helldorado Week here."
"You didn't give up, did you?" Malone said.
Boyd shook his head. "Of course not," he said. "Ken: this is on the expense account, isn't it?"
"Expense account," Malone said. "Sure it is."
Boyd looked relieved. "Good," he said. "Because I had the proprietor phone her size in, to New York."
"Better get two of 'em," Malone said. "The Chief said anything she wanted, she was supposed to have."
"I'll go back right away. I told him we wanted the stuff on the afternoon plane, so—"
"And give him Bar—Miss Wilson's size, and yours, and mine. Tell him to dig up something appropriate."
"For us?" Boyd blanched visibly. "For us," Malone said grimly.