He began to pass the cafe again, then, on impulse, stopped abruptly.
“Hello,” he said.
Janet Patzig looked at him out of sad blue eyes, but said nothing.
“Say, look,” he said, sitting down. “If I’m being fresh, just tell me and I’ll go. I’m an out-of-towner. Here on a convention. And I’d just like someone feminine to talk to. If you’d rather I didn’t—”
“I don’t care,” Janet Patzig said tonelessly.
“A brandy,” Frelaine told the waiter. Janet Patzig’s glass was still half full.
Frelaine looked at the girl and he could feel his heart throbbing against his ribs. This was more like it—having a drink with your Victim!
“My name’s Stanton Frelaine,” he said, knowing it didn’t matter.
“Janet.”
“Janet what?”