He drifted through the doorway, turned and leered at her.
'If you're as good as you look, you're good,' he said.
She shut the door in his face.
For some moments she stood motionless, breathing with difficulty, then she opened the door again and made sure he had gone.
She shut the door, turned the key and went quickly over to the telephone.
She knew Sean O'Brien was at his club. After a minute or so he came on the line.
'Sean, I'm in trouble,' she said.
'Okay, kid,' he said. 'That's why you have me. What can I do?'
She drew in a deep breath of relief. It was so comforting to have someone as powerful as him behind her. She felt no matter what the emergency might be he would take it in his stride. His confidence in himself to cope with any situation scared her sometimes.
'Louis Manchini has just left. Johnny got Fay's address from him last night. Manchini is trying to blackmail me. I'm supposed to take him back to my apartment tonight or he'll tell the police about Johnny.'
'What are you worrying about, honey?' O'Brien asked, his voice deceptively mild. 'You're not in trouble; Manchini is. I'll take care of it. Just forget about him. You won't be bothered by him any more. Is he in the club?'
'He'll be at the stage door in an hour's time.'
'Fine. Just relax. I'll be along as soon as you've finished your act. We'll leave by the front entrance. Just forget Manchini.'
Because of his deadly calmness she was suddenly frightened.
'You won't have him hurt, Sean? He's dangerous. If he told the police ...'
'That's okay,' O'Brien said smoothly. 'I know how to shut his mouth. Forget about him, kid. I'll be along,' and he hung up.
At twenty-five minutes to eleven, Louie left the Casino and sauntered around to the stage door.
He was in a jubilant, excitable mood. By tomorrow morning he would have something to tell his pals, he thought, as he stood under the light immediately above the stage door.
Louie always boasted of his conquests, and for the first time in his life he felt he would really have something to boast about.
He looked at his wrist-watch. He was a minute or so early. Well, she had better not keep him waiting. A guy could be land or rough with a dame; she better not give him any reasons to be rough.
Tux, looking short and squat in the shadowy darkness, walked down the alley, his hands in his coat pockets.
'Hi, Louie,' he said. 'What do you think you're doing here?'
Louie eyed him irritably. Where the hell did this punk spring from? he wondered.
'I'm wailing for a wren,' he said airily. 'Give me some room, Tux. You're in the way.'
Tux smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, and Louie suddenly felt uneasy.
'You're not after Gilda Dorman, are you?' Tux asked.
'What the hell's that to do with you?' Louie demanded, backing away.
'Plenty, pally,' Tux said, and his hand came out of his pocket. The squatnosed automatic threatened Louie. 'Come on. Didn't you know she belongs to O'Brien?'
Louie stiffened, his face went white and his mouth turned dry.
He stared at the gun as if hypnotized.
'Come on,' Tux repeated. 'You've been playing with dynamite.'
'O'Brien?' Louie croaked. 'Why didn't she tell me?'
'Why should she?' Tux said, and dug the gun into Louie's ribs. 'Let's go, pally.'
Louie walked to the end of the alley on unsteady legs. He knew enough about Tux not to try to run.
There was a car at the end of the alley. Whitey, a fat, jovial-looking ruffian, his chin unshaven and a lank lock of hair hanging over his ear from under his hat, sat at the wheel.
'Hi, Louie,' he said, grinning through the open window. 'Long time no see.'
Louie got into the back seat of the car, feeling Tux's gun ramming against his kidneys. He began to shake.
'Where are we going, Tux?' he asked, in a faint, muffled voice.
'We're taking you home, pally,' Tux said amiably.
'But this isn't the way,' Louie wailed. 'Now listen, Tux, I didn't know she was O'Brien's girl.'
'We live and learn,' Tux said. 'What's all this about Johnny Dorman coming to see you last night?'
Louie stared at him, feeling sweat running down his face.
