I wrapped the extra box of shells in the brown paper and dropped it into the bureau drawer. Then I went over and sat down on the bed beside her. “Listen, Alma,” I said, “that gun’s loaded. Don’t shoot anyone unless you have to, but if anyone starts playing with your neck again, you start making noises with that gun. You don’t need to hit him. Just cut loose with the gun. That will bring help.”

She stretched out on the bed, and twisted her lithe, supple body around to mine with a gesture that reminded me of a kitten twisting around in play. Her arms came around my neck, drew me to her. I felt the tip of her tongue searching my lips.

It was perhaps an hour later that a quick succession of knocks announced the arrival of Sandra Birks and her brother.

I opened the door.

“Where’s Alma?” Sandra Birks asked.

“In the bathroom,” I said, “washing her eyes. She’s nervous and upset. She’s been crying.”

“And I presume,” Sandra said, looking at the rumpled bed, “you were comforting her.”

Bleatie stared down at the pillow and said, “Hell, they’re all the same.”

Sandra turned on him. “You shut up, Bleatie,” she said. “You have a dirty mind. You don’t think any woman’s decent.”

“Well,” he said, “what were you thinking?”

I said, “Did you see anything of Morgan Birks?”

Sandra seemed anxious to change the subject. “No, we came in the back way, bribed the porter to take us up in the freight elevator.”

Alma came out of the bathroom.

“She hasn’t been crying,” Bleatie said.

Sandra ignored him. “What’s going on in the next room?” she asked.

“Miss Sally Durke has become Mrs. B. F. Morgan,” I said. “She’s waiting for Mr. Morgan to join her. Doubtless it’ll be before dinner. They may have dinner served in their room.”

“We can prop this door open and listen,” Sandra Birks said.

“You don’t give your husband credit for very much intelligence, do you?” I asked.

“Why?”

“He’d spot that open door before he was halfway down the corridor. No, we’ll have to take turns listening at the bathroom door. We can hear him when he comes in.”

Bleatie said, “I’ve got a scheme that beats that all to pieces.” He took a pocket drill from his pocket, tiptoed into the bathroom, listened a minute, and said, “The place to bore holes in a door is right in the corner of the panel.”

“Put that thing away,” I said. “You’ll just spill wood particles all over the floor and put her wise.”

“Have you any plans?” he asked me.

“Plenty of them. We take turns listening at the bathroom. When we hear a man come in, I go around to their room. If it’s Morgan Birks, I serve the papers on him.”