He solved the problem by dragging my unconscious body down the short length of corridor to his own room, binding and gagging me and leaving a DO NOT DISTURB sign on his door.
That way, he felt I was safely immobilized for the time being at least while he sat tight to see what happened. Later, he could have returned at his leisure to finish me off if that course seemed indicated.
But Mike Shayne got to him before he decided that was necessary, so I’m still alive to tell the story.
Next time I attend a mystery writers’ banquet in New York, I shall take Mike along as a bodyguard. And when I meet an attractive and sensuous female at the bar I’ll turn her over to Mike and run like hell.
That’s his forte-definitely not mine.
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