promised him twenty dollars if he got us a taxi, he couldn't do enough for us. That was how we got home.
Right now, Blondie was lying in the bath soaking her bruises, and I Was crouched over the fire with a glass of Scotch in my hand.
I wasn't too keen having Blondie here. She just wouldn't go back to her apartment. There was nothing else to do but to bring her here. I wanted to get her story, and although she didn't say more than three or four words in the taxi... and they were bad ones, I had hopes of getting something out of her.
“When you've finished,” I bawled out to her, “you might remember I'm waiting.”
“All right,” she called back. “Come and give me a towel and I'll come out.”
I said, “You can get it yourself. Remember I'm modest, if you ain't.”
She didn't say anything to that, but I heard her climb out of the bath, and after some time she came out wrapped in my woollen dressing-gown. Her eyes were still stormy and her mouth was set in a sullen line. She jerked her head towards the bathroom, and poured herself out three fingers of Scotch.
I went into the bathroom and had a quick one. The hot water did a lot to restore me, and when I came out again I was feeling fine.
Blondie was crouched over the fire. A cigarette dangled from her lips and the Scotch was way down in the bottle.
I sat down close to her and lit a cigarette. We remained like that for several moments. Then I said, “Maybe you'd like to tell me what happened.”
She twisted round so that she faced me. This dame was tough all right. I guess the street knocks hell out of these women. They've learnt to have no feelings, and to be on the look-out for a double-cross at every step. It is the one weapon they have to protect themselves.
Looking down at her hard face, I could see no redeeming expression.. She was a swell looker, but that didn't get a dame far. If you'd got eyes like granite and a mouth like a trap, I guess the rest of your looks can't even that lot up.
“Listen,” she said evenly. “You pulled me out of a jam, but you did it because of someone else and not because of me. You an' me have had a little trouble before. I guess we don't mean anythin' to each other. Well, if you're extending sympathy, you can stick it on the wall. I can manage okay without you handing out any grease; get all that?”
Talking with a dame like her was like playing 'handles' with a rattlesnake. There was only one way to talk to a dame who gets like that, so I handed out some of her own stuff.
“I'm not handing you any grease, sister,” I said, “I haven't any grease to pass on to your type. I save it for those who can appreciate it. I want to know your story. I've got myself mixed up in this business, and I guess, as I pulled you out of a jam, I'm entitled to know something about it. So come off your high horse, cut out the dramatics, and shoot.”
She turned back to the fire. “I ain't talkin',” she said.
I got up.
“Okay,” I said. “Beat it... go on... get the hell out of here... blow!”
She stood up. Her face startled and her eyes wide.
“If you ain't outside quick, I'll call the cops an' hand you over. You can guess what the charge'll be... an' I'll make it stick.”
She saw she hadn't a leg to stand on. Her sullen face cleared and she laughed. She could look mighty nice when she laughed. “Okay, darlin',” she said, “I'll be good.”
“You see how it is,” I said, moving back to the fire, “I've got you where it's crisp.”
She poured herself out another Scotch. This dame certainly liked her liquor. “Yes, darlin',” she said, all honey. “You're the boss.”
“While we're on the subject,” I went on, “I reckon I've told you before. That 'darlin'' of yours gives me a pain. You ain't on business now.”
She came over and put her arms round my neck. “I could be,” she said, digging down into her box of tricks and putting on a swell act-
It only made me nervous. I got rid of her arms none too gently and pushed her into the chair. “Relax,” I said. “I wantta catch up some sleep some time. It's gettin' late.”
For a moment she looked as if she was goin' to get mad again, then she thought better of it.
“Now what's the story behind all this?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I guess Earl's a little tired of having me around. This is the sort of hint that guy hands out when he wants you to take a powder.”
Not quite right. One of those difficult answers, half-truth and half-lie. If I was going to get anywhere with this dame, I'd got to lead her along carefully.
“Those three thugs work for Katz?”
She nodded. “That's right.”
“What did they want to know?”
She glanced at me quickly. Once again her lips smiled, but her eyes were suspicious. “They didn't want to know anythin', darlin,” she said.
“Yeah? Then why did they beat you up?”
The memory of that made her face darken. “I've told you... that's the way he gives out he's tired of
