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     Duffy said, “How could you be useful to a guy like Cattley?”

     Her face hardened a little. “I'm telling you everything, aren't I?” she said.

     Duffy leant back on his elbows. “Sure, and it don't sound so good.”

     She lifted her shoulders wearily. “It isn't good. In Cattley's business he had to have a woman around. He got me to play hostess to his suckers. I got him introductions to the upper set. It was through me that he made so much money. Cattley was on the level with me. He gave me plenty.” She sighed, twisting her hands. “Now the poor mug's dead.”

     In the other room the telephone began to ring. Duffy made no move to answer it.

     Olga said, “What's the matter ? Don't you want to answer it ?”

     “Let it ring,” he said, looking at her.

     The telephone stopped ringing.

     She stood facing him, then she said, “Yes... yes... yes.”

     He reached out and pulled her roughly to him. “I'm crazy about you,” he said, his lips hard against her throat.

     The telephone began to ring again. It rang for a long time, then it stopped. A fly buzzed busily from room to room, hitting the window with distinct little plops.

     On the bed, Duffy lay, his eyes half shut, feeling the muscles of his body running into liquid. Olga went to sleep. Duffy watched her. Time meant nothing to him. He was quite content to look at her. Her body was strong and white Her flesh was firm. He thought she looked good.

     He put out his hand gently and touched her hair. She stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled at him.

     Duffy said, “You've got me. You've got me hard.”

     “I want to go away with you,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I want to get away from all this. You won't let me down, now?” She said “now” very urgently.

     Duffy shook his head. “It'll be all right, you see.”

     The telephone began to ring insistently.

     Olga sat up. A little shiver ran through her. She said, “No, don't go. Leave it.”

     Duffy hesitated, then got off the bed. He looked at her for a moment, smiled, then went into the other room. He took the receiver off the prong.

     “What is it?” he said sharply.

     “Gleason talking,” came the harsh purring voice.

     Duffy pulled a chair up and sat down. His eyes and mouth were suddenly hard. “Okay,” he said, “I didn't expect you so soon.”

     “I've been ringing for some time.” There was just a hint of nerves in Gleason's voice.

     “Well, you got me now.”

     “I'll buy that thing from you for fifteen grand,” Gleason said with a rush.

     Duffy grinned into the 'phone. “I must be getting deaf,” he said. “It sounded like you said fifteen grand.”

     Gleason was silent for a minute, then he said, “I can't go higher than that. Fifteen grand.”

     “What the hell kind of a cheap punk are you? Ain't you aching to get that list back? The list is worth that much as State evidence.”

     “Now listen,” Duffy could almost see Gleason squeezing the telephone with excitement, “I can't lay my hands on any more dough. I'll make you a fair offer. Fifteen grand and five per cent cut on the business.”

     “Aw, use your head,” Duffy shifted forward in his chair a little. “I ain't so dumb. What's five per cent cut to a corpse? I wouldn't trust you, Gleason, for a second. Once you had that list, you'd bust your guts to iron me out. No, it's cash or nothing.”

     Gleason said, “You goddam sonofabitch...

     “Skip it. You don't know what you're up against. I've got another buyer in the market. You're going to pay plenty for that list, or the other guy gets it.”

     There was a heavy silence at the other end, and Duffy reached over for a cigarette. He had nothing to do, and plenty of time to do it in.

     Then Gleason said, “That's the way you're going to play it, huh?”

     “You got it. Ends against the middle. I ain't in a hurry, but you'd better start revising your ideas.”

     “You're going to find yourself in a heap of trouble,” Gleason said. His voice was suddenly steady. He seemed no longer excited. “I'd play ball on the level, Duffy, or...”

     “Listen, you yellow punk, you can't throw a scare into me. I know just where I've got you. Start the bidding at fifteen grand if you like, but the price is going to the roof.” He dropped the receiver back on the prong and sat back.

     Olga came out of the bedroom. She was still nude. “Are you handling this right?” she asked.

     Duffy went over to her and put his hands round her back. “This is the way it's going to go,” he said. “It'll take a little time, but it'll yield the most dough.”

     She looked up into his face. “Can't you trust him?”

     Duffy shook his head. “It's going to be tricky getting away with the dough,” he said, “but you watch me, we'll beat 'em.”

     She leant against him. “I didn't care what happened, but I do now. I don't want you to get into a jam after this.”

     He led her back into the bedroom. “Put on a wrap,” he said, “I can't think with you like that.”

     He watched her undo the small case she had brought with her, and find a wrap, then he helped her put it on.

     They went back into the sitting-room again. Olga lit a cigarette, drawing down the smoke and holding it. She said, “You're hatching something, what is it?”

     Duffy took from his inside pocket a little note-book and put it on the table. Then he brought out another book, identical with the first. He laid it beside the other.

     Olga looked at them closely, then released a cloud of smoke down her nostrils. “A double-cross,” she said.

     “You've got it.” Duffy drew up a chair and sat down. “I'm showing you how dough's made.” He took out a fountain-pen and began to copy the list of names from the first book into the second.

     She sat on the edge of the table and watched him.

     “Someone's going to get mighty sore about this,” she said at last.

     Duffy didn't look up. He went on writing, but he said, “We won't be there to see 'em.”

     When he had finished the list, he went back again to the beginning and studied the pages. “You know what these numbers stand for? Look, Max Hughson 5. Johnny Alvis 7. Trudie Irvine 4.”

     She leant over his shoulder. “Payments,” she told him. “Hughson used to pay five thousand dollars a month for his dope and protection ”

     “That's plenty. Why protection?”

     Olga swung her long legs. “That was Gleason's way. These birds aren't real hopheads. They just play at it. Gleason sold them the dope, then warned them that someone was on to them, and it would cost them so much to hush it up. He only had to put the screw on a little, scare them to hell, and show them that he could warn off all comers, to get himself put on their pension list.”