“When do we drink?” asked Alden.
“You’re going to quit drinking so much, young man.”
“That’s so? I guess I’ll take one right now, before I forget about it.”
He stepped out of the room and went down to the bar, where Hank and Terry were having a drink. Oscar, the bartender, looked Alden over with open amusement.
“Gentlemen of the jury!” he blurted. “Look what sneaked in on us!”
“Dry yore tears, you cock-eyed scorpion!” snorted Alden. “Gimme a glass, will yuh? Got any decent brandy? Gimme a scoop. The old man says I’m drinkin’ too much, and I want plenty jolt in a few.”
“That stuff would knock the ornyments off a Christmas tree,” declared Hank North. “I got a shot of it by mistake one day, and my Adam’s apple has been wilted ever since. If I had to drink that as a reg’lar thing, I’d shore cut a fire-break across m’ neck just above m’ collar-bone. As a beverage, I’d jist as soon swaller a hot horseshoe.”
“She’s a man’s drink,” whispered Alden hoarsely.
“Take another,” invited Terry. “I’d like to see yuh lose yore voice entirely.”
But Alden had enough for the moment. Jules Mendoza and Tony Gibbs came in. They started to come to the bar, but changed their minds when they saw who was here.