“The hell with that stuff!” roared Bromberg. “Get ’em out! Scare ’em out! Jesus Christ! how long d’yeh think we’re going to stand for being hammered by that bunch o’ skirts? They got a lot o’ people sore on us now. The crowd what uster come around 291 is gettin’ leery. And who are these damned women? One of ’em was a White Nun, when they did the business for the Romanoffs. One of ’em fired on the Bolsheviki––that big blond girl with yellow hair, I mean! Wasn’t she one of those damned girl-soldiers? And look what she’s up to now––comin’ over here to talk us off the platform!––the dirty foreigner!”
“Yes,” growled Bromberg, “and there’s that redheaded wench of Vanya’s!––some Grand Duke’s slut, they say, before she quit him for the university to start something else–––”
Kastner cut in in his steely voice: “If you do not throw out these women, Puma, we fix them and your hall and you––all at one time, my friend. Also! Iss it then for February the first, our understanding? Or iss it, a little later, the end of all your troubles, Angelo?”
Puma got up, nodded his acceptance of their ultimatum, and opened the door for them.
When they trooped out, under the brick arch, they noticed his splendid limousine waiting, and as they shuffled sullenly away westward, Bromberg, looking back, saw Puma come out and jump lightly into the car.
“Swine!” he snarled, facing the bitter wind once more and shuffling along beside his silent brethren.
Puma went east, then north to the Hotel Rajah, where, in a private room, he was to complete a financial transaction with Alonzo B. Pawling.
Skidder, too, came in at the same time, squinting rapidly at his partner; and together they moved toward the elevator.
The elevator waited a moment more to accommodate a willowy, red-haired girl in furs, whose jade eyes 292 barely rested on Puma’s magnificent black ones as he stepped aside to make way for her with an extravagant bow.
“Some skirt,” murmured Skidder in his ear, as the car shot upward.