Raymond    . . . The desk will know who to contact. The desk will have procedure for this kind of thing.

Bert    This kind o’ thing? The desk’ll have things?

Raymond    Quite. Procedures.

Bert    ‘Procedures’ for hysteria? The desk’ll have ‘procedures’ for hysterical midgets, Ray?

Raymond    Medical procedures. They will have a local doctor they can contact; somebody who’ll be able to give Charles something to calm him down.

Bert    He just needs a drink, or maybe even a little smoke.

Raymond    This is what all this is about, isn’t it, Kowalski. A young boy – a sensitive boy – has been driven hysterical by your debauchery, and your only concern is that the desk remains unaware of your nefarious practices.

Bert looks towards the bag that contains his pipe and his opium stash.

Bert    C’mon, Ray, gimme a break –

Raymond    I’m no snitch, Kowalski, but as a professional I am duty-bound to put the well-being of a colleague and a member of this cast above the concealment of your dubious and highly illegal personal habits.

Bert looks around at the empty whisky bottles.

Bert    This stuff . . . you drank as much of this stuff as me, Ray, this illegal stuff.

Raymond    I doubt whether any local sales clerk would testify in court that I was the one who purchased these bottles of Scotch.

Bert sits upright and points angrily at Raymond, denouncing him.

Bert    No they wouldn’t, you cocksucker! They couldn’t. Cos purchase is the last fucken thing you’ll do! It ain’t gonna stop you fucken drinkin; it ain’t gonna stop your fake-ass Ivy League mouth from wrappin itself round the neck of any bottle some other stiff’s spent his hard-earned dimes on, it ain’t gonna stop you doin that!

Raymond    I’m giving you a chance, Kowalski, a chance, you hear: a chance to clear up this evidence before I call the desk.

Bert    You two-faced asshole! You drank the shit; you clean up the mess!

Raymond picks up the phone.

Raymond    I’m calling the desk.

Bert    . . . You remember Muzzy Starr, Ray?

Raymond    What?

Bert    Muzzy Starr. Sure you do, sure you remember him, Ray.

Raymond    What is this? I’ve never heard of – (Into phone.) . . . Desk? Yes, Mr Benedict-Porter, no, no, no, don’t put me on ho—

Bert    Muzzy Starr, Ray. He’s around, he’s around San Francisco right now. Right now he’s around there getting his raggedy little ass shot out a fucken cannon.

Raymond is trying to contain his ire.

Raymond    Is there, a-are you trying to say something to me, Kowalski? Because if you are – if you are trying to say something to me –

Bert    Wichita, ’twenty-nine. Muzzy was, what? sixteen, seventeen? In ’twenty-nine Muzzy was seventeen, sixteen, uh?

Raymond    We’ve been through this. I thought I’d made it abundantly clear that I have never set foot in Wichita!

Bert    Muzzy’s got proof you set foot in Wichita.