"The cops got her, hey?"

"No, it's not that bad, yet. n.o.body wants to prosecute. But yesterday a lot of the things were traced, and this girl, Dorothy's room-mate, has to pay for them, or else."

"How much does it tote?"

"Over two hundred dollars."

"Quite a lot of dough."

"And I don't know what I'm going to do."

Ben got up, lit a cigarette, flicked the match into the fireplace, and stood facing her. For a time he smoked, eyeing her steadily. Then: "I don't see why you're taking it so hard. Two hundred bucks, sure that's a lot of money. But you can get it easy enough."

"Where?"

"Jansen."

"No, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Oh-I couldn't go to him, that's all. He-he's going to make me Chief of Social Service, and I can't ask for more than that. I could pay it out of my salary, if I only had time. But my first pay check will be in August, and if I don't make this thing good she'll be put in jail, and-"

"You sure that's why you can't go to Jansen?"

"Of course it is."

"You're not stuck on him, by any chance?"

"...You! Can ask Can ask that!" that!"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I don't even know what you mean."

"No? That first night we were out together, you had to leave here because the guards were at your place, and they'd tell Jansen what time you came in. But Jansen's car was outside, and Jansen was downstairs waiting for you. He was there Thursday night, and Friday night, and last night. Each night he stayed over an hour. What are you trying to do, kid me? I say you're stuck on him."

He was cold, but not particularly indignant. From his manner, one might think he was playing a carefully rehea.r.s.ed scene. She shook her head emphatically. "No, you're wrong, though I can see why you think what you do. I'm not stuck on him. And-he has no personal interest in me. It was business, things we had to talk over. He's married, and-"

"His wife's in a sanitorium."

"I wouldn't know. I-"

"No? I'd imagine he'd have quite a lot to say about that wife, how long she's been in the sanitorium, how sick she is all the time, how much he loves her, how much it means to him that he has somebody he can tell about her, and that understands how he feels. If you're not stuck on him, it certainly looks like he's stuck on you. It looks-"

"All right, then, but if somebody got stuck on me, I'd certainly not go and tell anybody. You, or anybody."

"Then O.K."

"And I'd never go and ask them for-"

"Then O.K...There's other places to get dough."

"Where?"

She was eager, but he took his time about answering, lit another cigarette, flicked another match into the fireplace. "Well, me for instance."

"You? Would you let me have two hundred dollars?"

"I got two hundred. I got two thousand."

"Why couldn't you have made this offer without all these ugly insinuations about me and Mr. Jansen?"

"I got to know where I stand."

"Yes, of course he likes me. He-likes me a lot. He ought ought to, after all I've done for him. But-honestly, Ben, I just hate it that you stood out there and-" to, after all I've done for him. But-honestly, Ben, I just hate it that you stood out there and-"

"Can't a guy be jealous?"

He didn't look jealous. He looked like a man who had thought up something he was sure would score. It did. She drew breath to say something, then got up, put her arms around him, looked him in the eye, and kissed him exaltedly on the mouth. "I think that's one of the sweetest things I ever had said to me. I-just love you for that."

"What she do it for?"

"Who? That girl?"

"Yeah, Dorothy."

"It was the room-mate, Ben. She-"

"Hey, hey."

"All right, there isn't any room-mate. Are you really going to let me have the money?"

"Sure. How much is it?"

"Two twenty. And the wire charges."

"You'll have it. Tomorrow morning. By the way-"

"Yes?"

"Is Jansen going to be there tonight?"

"Not if you object."

"Oh, I don't object."

"That's right. There's nothing to be jealous of."

"You could ask him a favor, though."

"Anything you say."

"Ask him to appoint Cantrell Chief of Police."

"Appoint-whom did you say?"

"You heard me."

They had been standing in front of the fireplace, she snuggling against him, he patting her on the shoulders. Now he walked over and sat down near the candle, so its light shone upwards on his face as he looked at her. It gave him a curiously wolflike look. She stared, then came over and sat beside him. "Ben, what on earth are you talking about?"

"Cantrell."

"But he's a dirty crook. Why, he-was hand in glove with Caspar. Why, Ben, how how could Jansen appoint him? It would make a laughing stock of the whole campaign." could Jansen appoint him? It would make a laughing stock of the whole campaign."

"If Jansen really wants to appoint the best available man, and goes into the qualifications of them all, he'll find that Cantrell is the best officer on the force. It's not his fault if crooks get elected and he has to play along. Give Cantrell a break, and he's one of the best officers in the country. And a good officer Jansen will have to have, if he's going to put across what he's been promising the voters. He can't deliver with jerks and thugs."

"He can't appoint Cantrell."

"O.K.".

He yawned, coldly and indifferently. "You mind if we blow along now? I been thinking about it, and I think I better be making an early start over to Castleton, start looking for a job."

"How early?"

"Ah, seven, eight o'clock probably."

"Before the bank opens?"

"Oh yeah, long before that."

She sat a long time looking at him, her face wearing a look of pain. "I guess I see it now, Ben. What this is all about. Why you've been acting just a little peculiarly these last few days."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"Once you found out that Jansen was insanely in love with me, you knew, or thought, you had him, didn't you? That through me you could make him do whatever you wanted him to do, even to appointing that filthy swine, Cantrell. And tonight, when you heard about Dorothy, you saw something that played right into your hand, didn't you?"

"I haven't asked for a thing in this campaign."

"That's right. You were satisfied just to get Caspar, and be a free man once more. But the Jansen angle-I don't have any idea how you found out about it. You seem to have a habit of finding out things, and thinking up schemes. But when you did find out about it, you decided to use it for your own ends, didn't you? Just as you used what you knew about Caspar-"

"So did you. Don't forget that."

"I wasn't working for him."

Ben got up, picked up the candle, blew it out. In the dark there was a long pause. Then he said, "Just one more thing about Cantrell-"

"No, not even one thing. I know what you can do it you can get Cantrell made Chief of Police. You can run this town exactly as Caspar did. Well, you won't, that's all. He'll not be appointed."

"O.K. Sorry about Dorothy."

"...Never mind-about Dorothy."

Lefty materialized from a shadow when Ben headed into the parking shed, and walked with him into the hotel and up to his room. He wanted to borrow $5. Ben let him have it, and lay down on the bed. He lay there a long time, his eyes on the ceiling, listening to Lefty's downhearted view of the future. He was preoccupied, as though he were waiting for something. When the outside phone rang he stiffened a little, reached for it, then changed his mind. It rang a great many times, until Lefty became annoyed, and wanted to know why he didn't answer. When it stopped, Ben abruptly sat up. "Lefty, how much did Sol pay you?"

"Eighteen."

"What-a week?"

"O.K., then laugh, let's see you laugh. For all I did, taking a chance on my neck every other day-he paid me eighteen a week and I took it, that's the funny part. For something special he slipped me extra."

"You can start tomorrow at twenty-five."

"Who from?"

"From now on I'm running it."

"...Ah, so it was was you!" you!"

"So what?"

"Not a thing. I got not a word to say."

"Pals?"

"Two beers, Ben, and they're on you."

Chapter 7.

Inspector Cantrell raised his eyes as Ben came in, motioned vaguely to a chair, went on reading. In his manufacture, one would say that G.o.d had started with the feet, shaping them delicately; then proceeded to the body, making it strong and at the same time supple, not too large and not too small; then reached the head as the whistle blew for lunch. It was a round, bulletlike head, on the front of which a face had indeed been moulded, but a face hastily conceived, whose component parts didn't noticeably match; the heavy jaw was out of kilter with the narrow, low forehead; the right side was seamy, the left side not; it was even somewhat out of plumb, skewing off at an angle in a baffling way. Yet its dark mahogany color gave a startling, sharklike vividness to the light blue eyes, so that while one might instinctively avoid Mr. Cantrell, one would hardly trifle with him. He was, at this moment, taking his ease after lunch. His feet rested comfortably on the desk, his knee cradled a magazine. Under his chin, a light blue handkerchief protected a dark blue shirt, and behind him, a hanger spread his double-breasted coat. He wore no waistcoat. His belt, as it rose and fell with his regular breathing, was held by a monogrammed clasp.

Presently he yawned, pitched the magazine aside, clasped his hands behind his head. "Well, Ben, what do you know?"

"Not a thing, Joe."

"Me neither. Things awful slow. What you doing?"

"Nothing yet."

"You hear from Sol?"