“Off of that, you!” a voice boomed.
Glancing to the right, I saw two things: first, that Dorothy, still in her chair, hadn’t even uncrossed her legs, and second, that the law who had entered was not a uniformed pavement man but a squad dick I knew by sight. Evidently he had been somewhere around the premises, but it was the first I had seen of him.
He crossed to the gladiators. “This is no way to act,” he declared.
Dorothy, moving swiftly, was beside him. “This man,” she said, indicating Pohl, “forced his way in here and was told to leave but wouldn’t. I am in charge of this place and he has no right here. I want a charge against him for trespassing or disturbing the peace or whatever it is. He tried to kill Mr. Talbott with a chair and then with that iron he threw at him.”
I, having put the phone back on the desk, had wandered near, and the law gave me a look.
“What were you doing, Goodwin, trimming your nails?”
“No, sir,” I said respectfully, “it was just that I didn’t want to get stepped on.”
Talbott and Pohl were both speaking at once.
“I know, I know,” the dick said, harassed. “Ordinarily, with people like you, I would feel that the thing to do was to sit down and discuss it, but with what happened to Keyes things are different from ordinary.” He appealed to Dorothy. “You say you’re making a charge, Miss Keyes?”
“I certainly am.”