Sweeting hadn't expected to find a night clerk on duty at Maddox Court. He was sure the clerk wouldn't let him upstairs if he saw him, and he thought it unwise to walk in boldly and ask for Gilda at this hour.
But he had infinite patience. He waited, holding Leo close to him, while he leaned his fat shoulders against the pillar. He had to wait twenty minutes before the opportunity he was hoping for came.
The clerk suddenly glanced at his wrist-watch, dropped the paper on the desk, and went into a room immediately behind the desk.
Sweeting was through the revolving doors in a flash. He scuttled across the thick pile carpet that covered the lobby floor and darted up the stairs and around the bend as the clerk came out of the room.
Sweeting waited, listening; then, hearing nothing to alarm him, he went on up the stairs.
It took him some moments to work out where apartment 45 was located in this vast building, and eventually found to his dismay that it was on the top floor.
He was tempted to use the elevator, but decided against the risk. There
would be an indicator on the ground floor, and the clerk might wonder who was using the elevator. So Sweeting toiled up the stairs. By the time he had reached the sixth floor, he was sweating and puffing.
The time was now ten minutes to twelve. What a flop it would be, he thought, as he stood outside Gilda's front door, if she were out. He dug his grimy thumb into the bell-push and held it there.
After a slight delay he heard someone coming, and a moment later the door opened.
Gilda stared blankly at him. She was wearing a pale blue neglige trimmed with blue mink. Her bare feet were thrust into blue-quilted slippers. She made a quick movement to shut the door, but Sweeting had had too many doors slammed in his face in the past not to be ready for such a move. His foot was already against the bottom of the door.
'Don't be alarmed, Miss Dorman,' he said, with his oily smile. 'I've come about Maurice Yarde and your brother.'
With satisfaction he watched her turn pale. Frightened women were always easy to handle.
'Who are you?' she said, still pressing the door against his foot.
'My name is Raphael Sweeting. I am a friend of your brother. He may have mentioned me.' Sweeting said. 'Perhaps I might step inside? I have had a most tiring day and I would be glad to sit down.'
'You can't come in. I can't see you now. Please go away!'
Sweeting smiled.
'I don't want to make myself objectionable, Miss Dorman, but I assure you it is to your advantage to hear what I have to say. I have some interesting information for you.'
The big green eyes swept over him, taking in his soiled creased suit, the three large grease stains on his tie, and the swollen, bloodshot eye the hat brim didn't quite conceal.
'What information ?'
'It's about your brother.'
She hesitated, then, stepping aside, motioned him to come in.
Sweeting entered the hall happily. He followed her into a big, luxuriously furnished sitting-room that immediately told him she had much more money than he had imagined. It was possible, he thought as he looked around, that she was the mistress of some wealthy man. But that wasn't his affair. The point was she was living in style and must have money.
He took off his hat and settled himself in the most comfortable chair in the room, holding Leo on his lap.
'You'll excuse my eye. I had an unfortunate accident,' he said. 'Are you fond of dogs, Miss Dorman? This little fellow is a remarkable specimen.' He gently stroked Leo's silky coat. 'Such a companion. Do you have a dog?'
Gilda stood facing him. Her face hard.
'What do you want?' she said curtly. 'What have you got to tell me?'
Sweeting lifted his shoulders.
'Would it be inexcusable of me if I asked for a whisky and soda?' he asked hopefully.
'You're getting nothing here!' Gilda snapped. 'What have you to tell me?'
Sweeting's fat face hardened. There was no reason to be polite to women unless they were exceptionally polite to him. When dealing with men he had to be more careful. Some of them, like that Holland fellow, could be violent, but there was no fear of that with a woman.
'My information is for sale,' he said. 'I have information concerning your brother that you will be anxious to buy.'
'Shall I?'
She moved away from him, opened a silver cigarette box and lit a cigarette.
'Are you attempting to blackmail me?' she asked.
'I would scarcely call it blackmail. Valuable information is always worth paying for. The price is five hundred dollars.'
'You don't imagine I have such a sum in this apartment, do you?' she asked contemptuously.
'Why not? You are obviously well off. It's not a vast sum, but if you haven't, I would consider taking some jewellery as security to be reclaimed for cash tomorrow.'
