She was beginning to amuse me again. The asking-for-a-light technique was about the corniest approach in the book. Now she was going into the my-what-a-big-strong-man-you-are act.
“You have nice muscles yourself,” I said.
She gave me a quick glance, blushed when she saw I was pointedly staring at her full bosom. For a flustered moment she didn’t know what to say. I didn’t help her any. I was interested to see how she handled wolf wisecracks.
She simply ignored the remark. She asked, “Do you stay here?”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“So do I. I just checked in. I’m Mavis Train.” She looked at me expectantly.
“Sam Carter,” I said. “What’s your room number?”
She looked a little startled. “What? Why, 713. Why?”
“I collect them,” I said.
“Collect what?”
“Pretty girl’s room numbers. Then when I get drunk and feel lecherous in the middle of the night, I go pound on their doors.”
She stared at me, not sure whether I was making a joke or was really a screwball.
I said, “I’m just warning you. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s dangerous to speak to strange men?”
She decided I was teasing her. “I’m not that young,” she told me. “I’m twenty-five.”
“From where?” I asked.
“What? Oh, you mean my home. Long Island.”
I nodded. “Your father has a big estate there?”
“Why, yes. How did you know?”
“Just a guess. What are you doing so far from home?”
She hesitated, then said with rehearsed reluctance, “I ran away from a wedding.”
“Oh? Whose?”
“My own, silly. My father wanted me to marry this old man. Well, not old exactly. He’s about forty-five. He’s a business associate of daddy’s.”
The words had a familiar ring. They were the prelude to one of the oldest female bunco games there is. Old, but pretty effective when a real artist pulls it. But Mavis was no artist. Her idea of how heiresses acted was derived from seeing movies. Up to now I had assumed she was merely play-acting for the thrill of it. Now I realized with a shock that she was trying to work a bunco game and had picked me as her mark.
For a few moments I was too flabbergasted to speak, A little offended too. I regarded myself as an accomplished pro, and it wasn’t very flattering to be taken for a sucker. Then the humor of the situation struck me.
“Daddy insists on the marriage, huh?” I said with a wide grin. “If you go home and behave, all will be forgiven. If you don’t, he’ll cut you off without a cent. Already you’re running low on cash, and are becoming a little desperate. You’ve about decided to give in.”
She examined me doubtfully. I was going too fast. That part of the story wasn’t supposed to come out for several days yet, when I had become fond enough of her to object to her throwing her life away on a man twenty years older than she was.
“Don’t go back home and marry him,” I advised. “Something will come up. Maybe some kind man will stake you until you can get a job and make it on your own.”
She frowned and looked a little confused.
“How much do you need?” I asked.
She stared at me for a long time. Then she said accusingly, “You’re making fun of me.”
“Me?” I said. “Make fun of a damsel in distress? You wound me. Your story tugs at my heart. I’d open my purse wide, except for one thing.”
She ground out her cigarette on the concrete and tossed it aside. Rising, she looked down at me disdainfully. “I don’t think I like you, Mr. Carter.”
“Don’t you want to know what the one thing is?” I asked.
“No.” Turning her back, she started to walk away.
“It’s that there’s very little in my purse,” I said softly. “I’m in the bunco racket too.”
She stopped and slowly turned around. Her eyes were wide as they stared down at me.
“Sit down again,” I invited. “I’ve been looking for a girl like you. Maybe we can get together in a different way than you intended.”
Chapter II
After silently eyeing me for some time, she returned and gracefully sank to a position facing me. She looked wary.
“This your first attempt to score?” I asked.
After thinking this over, she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then it’s your first attempt,” I told her. “What gave you the idea of pulling the runaway heiress gag?”
She continued to study me. Finally she asked, “Are you really a confidence man?”
“Uh-huh.”
“A good one?”
“Among the best,” I said modestly. “You made a fine choice for your first mark. I spotted you for a phony the minute you walked in the bar.”
She frowned. “How?”
“You ever actually know an heiress?” I countered.
She reluctantly shook her head.
“You overdid it. I didn’t know it was a bunco pitch, of course. I just thought you were putting up a front for kicks. Like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. I didn’t realize you were trying to work a dodge until a few moments ago. But your front was so obvious, it was funny.”
“You aren’t very good for my ego,” she said.
“I’m good for your welfare,” I told her dryly. “With your technique, you were headed straight for jail.”
She flushed a little. “Why are you telling me this?”
I looked her up and down. “With a little training, your technique might improve. You speak decent English. You’re young and good-looking. With the proper clothes and a lot of polish, you could pass as an heiress.”
“You mean you’d like to train me?” she asked eagerly.
“Maybe. Interested?”
“Oh, yes,” she said enthusiastically. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to run into a real pro who could show me the ropes.”
I studied her curiously. “You’re sure you want to get into this racket?”
She gave her head a vigorous nod. “I want nice clothes, and a big car, and all the other things money can buy. I’d learn fast. I promise.”
I said, “Maybe we can help each other. As I told you, I’ve been looking for a girl like you. I need a partner for a pitch I’m working on.”
“I’ll be your partner,” she said instantly.
I smiled at her. “Without even knowing what the dodge is?”
She looked a little embarrassed. “Do I sound too eager? I guess I am. But you don’t know how scared I’ve been ever since I started this. What if I got caught, I kept wondering? I wished I had someone to work with, just for moral support. But all my friends are honest. They’d be horrified if they knew what I planned to do when I left for California. They all think I’m trying to get into the movies. I don’t care what the job is. I’ll do it.”
“Not so fast,” I said. “First I need answers to some questions.”
“What questions?”
“To begin with, this is your first try, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“You have a record anywhere for anything else?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never tried anything else illegal.”
“What made you decide to be a bunco artist?” I asked curiously.
She flushed again. In a low voice she said, “I got tired of working in a dime store. One night I saw this movie about an heiress running away from an arranged marriage. She met this fellow who was poor but honest. He didn’t know she was an heiress. He helped her out because she was broke, and they fell in love. Then he discovered she was rich and it made him mad and he wouldn’t have any more to do with her. He had principles, you see. But in the end he came around and decided he loved her in spite of her money, and her father came around too, and practically begged the hero to marry his daughter, and it all ended happily.”