Petkoff shrugged magnificently. “I have no ideas, colleague,” he said. “I have no ideas.”
“But she—”
“Miss Garbitsch was taken suddenly ill,” Petkoff said.
“Damn sudden,” Malone growled.
“Her friend, Miss Thompson, has taken her to the ladies’ room,” Petkoff said. He gestured, narrowly missing a broken, lumpy face Malone had seen before.
“You are under arrest,” the face said. Its partner peered over Petkoff’s shoulder.
“I?” Petkoff said.
“Not you,” the face said. “Him.” He started for Malone and Petkoff threw out both arms.
“Hold!” he said. “My orders are to see that this man is not molested.”
The guests had suddenly and silently melted away. Malone backed off a step, looking for something to stage a fight with.