That surprised him, but he was game. He ordered a bottle for us. Then he told the waiter to start the radio. “Get dance music,” he said. He leaned over Ginger. “How do you feel about dancin'?”
“I can take it or leave it.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” He giggled. “How about a dance with me?”
The music started. Ginger looked at me. “Why not?” I said. “He's buying us champagne, isn't he?”
She didn't like it, but she danced with him. The one they called Jonesy danced with the woman. That, left me with Davison. He hitched his chair nearer to me.
“What line you in, Mr. Smith?”
I was going to tell him I sold machine-guns when I heard some cars drive up. They come fast and skidded to a stop. “They're in a hurry,” I said.
“Drunks, probably,” Davison said. “What line did you say, Mr. Smith?”
“Gunpowder.”
His eyes widened. I heard the sound of voices at the front door. Somebody said: “Open up.” Davison said: “That's a rather odd line.”
There was an argument at the door. I recognized Gus Papas's voice. He kept repeating: “The place is close. The place is close.” His voice was high with excitement. “Like hell it is,” a deeper voice said.
“Do you handle dynamite, too?” Davison asked.
“Sure.”
Ginger forced the guy in the white suit to dance close to the table. He tried to kiss her neck. I couldn't hear the voices any more. Ginger looked at me angrily, but I shook my head. “Who's your friend?” I asked Davison.
“Don't you know him? Caryle Waterman, of the Waterman Drop Forge?”
“A big shot, eh?”
“His family are worth a couple of million.” Gus Papas came into the room. His face was green. He went behind the bar and turned off the radio. He said: “There's some people outside want to speak to a girl named Ginger.”
Ginger got pale, but she didn't say anything. She stood in Waterman's arms. He was holding her like they were still dancing. “There isn't any Ginger here,” Davison said. Gus Papas looked at Ginger. “Pug Banta says there is.” Waterman took his arms from around Ginger. “Gus,” he said; “you have known me for a long time. You will believe me when I tell you this girl is named Mrs. Smith.” I said to Gus: “He wants an excuse to get in.”
“Hokay,” Gus said. “I tell him to get the hell out of here.” He started the radio again and went out. Ginger walked around Waterman and came over to me. She was scared. “Sit down,” I said. “We've been talking about explosives.”
“Very interesting business,” Davison said. Waterman hung over the back of Ginger's chair. He wanted her to dance again. “Come on, dear,” he said.
“You probably don't know, Mr. Waterman,” I said, “but they've found nitro-glycerine to be very effective in putting out oilfield fires. Its effect is like that of a giant blowing out a candle. However, it's very dangerous to use.”
“Who gives a damn about oilfields?” Waterman said. I heard angry voices by the door. I heard someone cursing. Then there was a sound of pounding. Somebody swore again, and a shot was fired. There was a moment of absolute silence; then a volley of shots and a crashing of glass.
“My God!” Davison said.
Gus Papas ran on to the porch. “Get inside,” he yelled, waving his arm at us. “They shoot you here.”
We hurried inside. Papas herded us into his office.
Waterman asked: “What's the matter, Gus?”
“Some people try break in.”
“By God, they can't do that. Have you got a gun, Gus?”
“You stay here. You no wanta get shot.”
“Sure I do,” Waterman said.
There was a new burst of shooting. Papas ran out of the room, closing the door on the run. “If this isn't the damnedest thing!” Davison said.
The woman, Winnie, said: “I want to get out of here.”
“So do I,” Jonesy said. There was a silence.
Winnie's voice whined: “I never could stand guns.”
“It's quick,” Davison said. “Let's go now.”
“I wouldn't,” I said.
I tried the door while they thought this over. It wasn't locked. “I'll take a look around,” I said.
Nobody said anything. Waterman sat on a table by Ginger. She watched me, trying to figure out what it was all about. She slid off the table and came over to me. “Why won't they let Pug in?” she whispered. “Gus is afraid he isn't housebroken,” I said, going through the door.
She started to follow me. Waterman caught her arm. “Don't go, dear. Stay with papa.”
