“You called on the ’phone this morning.”
“I sure did.” Druce, with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, began toying with the silver vanity box Miss Randall wore suspended from her neck. “Say,” he went on insinuatingly, “you have the sweetest voice—”
“Better tell me why you want to see Mr. Boland,” she said quietly taking the vanity box from him and putting him at a distance. At the same time she smiled at him archly.
“Just want to renew a lease—the Cafe Sinister.”
“Oh,” said the girl, “I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s some swell place,” replied Druce with pride.
“Yes?” said the girl. She pantomimed counting money. “Yes, as long as you can keep the police asleep.”
“What in—what the deuce do you mean?” Druce inquired quickly.
Miss Masters shrugged her shoulders. Again she smiled at him archly.
“Oh, you’re wise, eh?” Druce laughed. He felt that he was on familiar ground with this girl. There was that in her manner that indicated the wisdom of the demi-monde. He thought he had placed her.