Fillmore hesitated, teetering in nervous indecision. Perhaps – well, it might be well to go a little slow. Rhodes was something rather special with the hotel management. He had risked his life in the hotel's interests, and if things came to a showdown –
But things wouldn't! He wasn't doing anything out of the way. After all, what was wrong with making an inquiry, intervening, where there was obviously some difficulty between a patron and an employee?
Fillmore patted his tie, threw back his shoulders and stepped around the corner.
'What's going on here?' he said briskly. 'What's the trouble, Rhodes?'
Rhodes' face went white. So he had been up to something! The woman also seemed perturbed, but she managed a smile. She nodded at the bag, a kind of dispatch case, which the bellboy was holding.
'I've misplaced my baggage check,' she said. 'Can't I please get the bag without it?'
'Well, I – uh -' Fillmore hesitated.
'Please? My husband just returned to town tonight, and he's very anxious to have these papers. I know it's rather unusual, but I have been a guest here – this bellboy admits he remembers me and…'
She looked at Fillmore winningly. He stared uncertainly at Rhodes. He'd had the same problem before at other hotels, and he'd known how to handle it. But at the Manton – well, it might be different here. Rhodes knew what the custom was better than he did.
'Well,' he said. 'I hardly – you do remember this lady, Rhodes?'
Rhodes hesitated. He said, his voice strangely tight, 'I remember.'
'And you can't – I'm not ordering you to, understand – you can't release a piece of baggage without a check? You don't do that under any circumstances?'
'No.'
'Not even if the owner identifies the contents?'
'N-no. I mean, she- she-'
'Answer me! Speak up!' Fillmore was sure of himself again. His voice rang with authority. 'That is the custom, isn't it?… I'm sorry you were delayed, madam, but if you'll just identi-'
'But I already have! I satisfied the boy that it was my bag, but apparently' – she laughed a little wryly- 'he wasn't satisfied with the tip I gave him.'
'Oh, he wasn't, eh?' Fillmore's lips tightened grimly. 'Give me that bag, Rhodes, do you hear me? Give it here instantly!'
Reaching across the counter, he snatched the bag from the bellboy's hand, presented it to the lady with a courteous bow. 'I'm extremely sorry about this, madam. May I see you to your cab?'
Murmuring apologies, muttering sternly about the bellboy's conduct, he escorted her out into the lobby. At the steps to the side entrance, she interrupted, laying a hand on his arm.
'He won't lose his job because of this, will he? I'd feel dreadful if I thought he would.'
'But, madam. The Manton cannot and will not tolerate discourtesy on the part of-'
'Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean to be discourteous. It was more thoughtlessness than anything else… Promise?' She gave his arm a little squeeze,. 'Promise he won't be fired.'
'Well,' said Fillmore, and then, grandly, 'Very well. I understand that he does need his place here. Has his father, a semi-invalid, depending on him.'
'I know.' said Marcia Hillis. 'I mean, I thought he must be upset about something.'
SEVENTEEN
Dusty never knew how he got through that night. It seemed endless, and each of the year-long moments was a nightmare of soul-sickening rage, of rage and hate and frustration – repressed, seething inside him, until the mental sickness became physical. He wanted to kill Fillmore, to choke him with his bare hands. He wanted to hide in a dark, corner and vomit endlessly. He wanted…
He wanted the unattainable. He wanted what he had always wanted – her. And now he was not going to have her. She was Tug's woman, obviously, irrefutably. Everything else had been pretence, all the caresses and the whisperings and the promises. All for Tug, nothing for him. They'd be together now, on their way out of the country together. They'd be laughing – she'd be laughing, as she told how she'd hoodwinked him. He'd been on the point of giving her the satchel. He couldn't bear to see her hurt, to have her think that he didn't trust her. Goddam, oh, Goddam! And he'd been just a little suspicious of her last-minute firmness, her insistence, but if she'd kept up the act a moment longer…
But it hadn't been necessary for her to keep it up. He hadn't had time to reach a decision. That goddamned stupid Fillmore had butted in, and there'd been nothing to do but let her have the bag. Jesus, what else could he do? Call her bluff? Say that she hadn't identified the contents, and risk Fillmore's taking over, calling the house dick maybe or the manager? He couldn't do that and she knew it, knew that he'd have to do just what he had done. Let her go, and keep his mouth shut. Let her take the money, and herself, to Tug. Tug's money, his money – the whole two hundred and thirty-two thousand.
And the terrible part about it was that he couldn't hate her. He tried to, but he couldn't. He wanted her as much – Christ, he wanted her more! – as he ever had.
Still sick and seedling, he drove home that morning. A kind of vicious delight welled up in him as Mr. Rhodes met him at the door, mumbling worriedly about Miss Hillis' absence. He shoved past the old man. He turned and faced him, his pent-up fury spewing out at this easy and defenseless target.
'So she's left. What about it? What business is it of yours, anyway?'
'B-but-' Mr. Rhodes gave him a startled look. 'But I – where could she have gone to? Why would she have left, gone away at night, without saying anything? Everything was all right when I went to bed. We'd sat up talking rather late, and then I helped her make down the lounge and-'
'I'll bet you did. It's a goddamned wonder you didn't try to go to bed with her. Christ knows, you haven't left her alone for a second since she's been here!'
'B-but-' The old man's mouth dropped open. 'Son, you can't mean-'
'The hell I don't! That's probably why she left, because she couldn't stand the sight of you any more. She had all she could take, just about like I've had all I can take… Yes, you heard me right, by God! I'm sick of you, get me? Sick of looking at you, sick of listening to you, sick of-'
The phone rang. Raging, he let it ring on for a moment. And then he snatched up the receiver and almost yelled into the mouthpiece.
A muted chuckle came over the wire. 'Something riling you, kid?' said Tug.Trowbridge.
Dusty's hand jerked. His fingers went limp, and the receiver started to slide from his grasp.
'Now get this,' kid,' Tug went on swiftly. 'I'll be by the side entrance there tonight, tomorrow morning rather, at one o'clock. Driving, yeah. I'll give three short taps on the horn, and – Dusty! You listening to me?'
'I'm l-lis- You can't!' Dusty stammered. 'You – '
'Why not? I'll have this little collapsible bag you can slip under your jacket. You put mine in that, and bring it back out again, just like I'd given you a check on it. What – '
'But I – '
'Yeah?' Tug chuckled again. 'Kind of surprised you, huh, thought it would be more complicated? Well, that's it. One o'clock tonight.
Three taps on the horn.' 'Wait!'
'Yeah? Snap into it, kid.'
'I've got to see you,' said Dusty. 'Something's – I've got to see you!'
'Huh-uh. No, you don't. You just-'
'But I can't! I m-mean-' He wouldn't dare tell Tug the whole truth. Tug had filled three men for that money, his share of it, and he would not believe the truth if he heard it. He would thinly that – 'I mean, that's what I've got to see you about.'
Heavy silence for a moment. Then, softly, 'You wouldn't be hungry, would you, kid? You wouldn't want it all… and that ten grand reward besides'?'
'No! My God, you know I wouldn't – that I couldn't do that.'
'Yeah. Well, just so you know it, too, that you'd hang yourself if you tried it. They nab me and you're sunk, or you try putting the blocks to me and you're-'
'I'm not! It's-I can't explain now, but I've got to see you, now-'
