"Hello, Harmas," he said, then caught sight of Frankie. His face set. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled at Frankie.

"You're bleeding over my goddamned carpet."

"My fault," I said, taking out my cigarettes, selecting one. "Your boy made me nervous. I thought he was a tough egg. We fooled around together just to see how strong we were. It turned out he wasn't strong at all."

Frankie's lips twitched. He said three words; one of them obscene. His voice was not loud, but it was bitter.

Bradley took a step forward, snapped, "Get the hell out of here," to Frankie, who went.

I lit my cigarette, hooked a chair towards me with my foot, sat down.

"You'd better watch that boy," I said. "He's in need of a mother's care."

"Never mind him," Bradley said, frost in his eyes. "It's you I want to talk about."

"That's fine," I said. "I like talking about myself. Where shall we begin? Would you like to hear how I snitched the scripture prize when I was a little lad?"

Bradley leaned forward. "Frankie may not be tough," he said, "but I am. You'd better not forget it."

"That's scared me right through to my jaegers," I said. "May I go in a corner and cry?"

"I've warned you," Bradley said, sitting at his desk. "You're getting too inquisitive, my friend. I sent for you because I thought a little chat off the record might clear the air, I advise you not to pass this on to your friend Corridan. It wouldn't be healthy."

"You needn't worry about Corridan," I said. "He and I aren't pals anymore. What's biting you?"

He took a cigar from a silver box on his desk, pierced it, lit it, threw the match away, puffed it once or twice before he spoke again.

He took his time. He didn't rattle me. I was in no hurry myself.

aI don't like American newspaper men who are inquisitive," he said. "They annoy me."

"Are you suggesting I should relay that item of news to the U.S. Press Association?" I kidded him. "I doubt if they'd lose much sleep, but, of course, they might. You never know."

"You're sticking your nose into something that has nothing to do with you," Bradley went on smoothly. "I suggest you stop it."

"No harm in making suggestions," I returned lightly. "What exactly do you mean by that sinister 'something'?"

"We needn't go into that," Bradley said, a cold, angry gleam in his eyes. "You know what I mean. I'm serious about this. I'd advise you to return to your own country. There's a plane leaving tomorrow. It wouldn't be a bad idea if you were on it."

I shook my head. "I have a lot of work to do in this country," I said.

"I'm sorry I can't oblige you. Is that all you wanted to see me about?"

He studied his cigar for a moment, said, "I'm warning you, Harmas. If you don't keep your nose out of this, you're going to be taught a sharp lesson. I know what you newspaper men are like. You get keen on a story and you need a lot of persuasion to give it up. I have all the necessary persuasion but I'm not anxious to use it. I thought if I gave you the hint, you'd be a smart fellow and mind your own business in the future."

I stubbed out my cigarette in the copper ashtray on his desk, stood up.

"Look, Bradley," I said, leaning across the desk, "I've listened to your hot air because I wanted to hear how far you'd go. You and hundreds of other fat, sleek rats who've made money out of this war, sold stinking bad liquor to the Service men, and gorged yourselves with black market food are a gross a nickel in my country. I've knocked around and met real tough eggs, not jerks like you who merely smell strong. I've been threatened before, and the guys who've shaken their fists at me have ended up in a nice cool cell or are now fertilizing the soil. I'm not scared of you, or of your panty-waisted Frankie. I'm coming after you, and I'm keeping after you until I've had the satisfaction of knowing the hangman's taken your weight and height and selected a nice strong rope for you. Show me how tough you are, and I'll show you how tough I am. Keep Frankie out of my hair. He's too young for this kind of shindig. But if he does try anything with me, I'll paper a wall with him, and I'll paper another wall with you."

Bradley let me say my piece to the end. There was a faint flush on his heavy face and his fingers drummed on the desk, otherwise he was calm enough.

"All right, Harmas," he said, shrugging, "if that's the way you feel. Don't forget I've warned you.a I grinned at him. "I won't forget," I said, "but you'll find me a little harder proposition to take on than Madge Kennitt."

His face tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I've never heard of Madge Kennitt. You can get out and stay out. This club's closed to you from now on. And take my tip a" mind your own business, otherwise you'll be a sick PUP."

"Phooey!" I said, and left him.

chapter thirteen.

On my way back from the Ministry of Reconstruction and Planning where I had been obtaining material for my third article, I ran into Corridan.

I spotted him hurrying along the crowded pavement, a dour, forbidding look in his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Hello, sour puss," I said, falling into step beside him. "You look as cheerful as the National Debt."

He scowled round, continued on his way.

"I never met such a chap," he said, stretching his long legs as if anxious to shake me off. "You're like a vulture. When anything happens or goes wrong, you're sure to appear on the scene."

My legs were as long as his, and I kept pace with him easily enough.

"What's wrong this time?" I asked brightly. "Anyone been humped off?"

"Nobody's been bumped off," he returned coldly. "If you must know that damned Julius Cole has skipped. He climbed out of his bedroom window and hooked it last night while I was trying to get in."

"I don t blame him," I returned. "Not after what happened to Madge Kennitt. I suppose he thought the same thing might happen to him. Any idea where he's got to?"

"No, but we shall find him. I want him for questioning, and a general alarm has gone out all over the country to bring him in. It won't take long, but it's a shocking waste of public money."

"Don't bother your head about that," I said. "There are plenty of other things to worry about. The great thing is to find him alive."

"I wish you'd stop dramatizing this business," Corridan snapped.

"You make it sound a damn sight worse than it is."

"I wonder," I shrugged. "By the way, how are you getting along with the Jacobi case?"

He misstepped, glanced at me sharply. "What do you know about that?" he demanded, slowing his pace.

"Oh, I've been following your remarkable rise to fame and fortune," I returned lightly. "A couple of months ago your face and name were spread over every newspaper in connection with Jacobi. Have you found the missing loot yet?"

He shook his head. "Plenty of time for it to appear," he returned curtly. "What makes you bring up Jacobi?"

"Oh, I've been consulting my Ouija board again. I thought it was a little odd that part of Jacobi's loot should be hidden in Netta's jar of cold cream. I wondered too, why you didn't tell me that the ring was connected with such a sensational case."

Corridan smiled grimly. "I don't tell you everything. You appear capable of finding out most things for yourself."

I nodded. "That's so. You'd be surprised how much I do find out."

"Such as what?"

"I don't tell you everything either. One of these days I'll take you into my confidence and we'll have a good cry together."

He made an impatient gesture, looked around for a taxi.

"Have you wondered if the Jacobi affair has anything to do with Netta Scott and Madge Kennitt's murder?" I asked as the taxi, in answer to Corridan's hail, drew up.

"I'm always wondering about everything connected with all my cases," he returned dryly, climbed into the taxi. "I'll be seeing you, Harmas. You can leave all this safely in my hands. You may not think so, but they are extremely capable."

"Let's keep that as something between you and me," I said.

"Some people wouldn't believe it."

I watched him drive away, grinned, and continued on to the Savoy. So Julius Cole had gone to ground. I wouldn't be surprised, I thought, if I heard he had been found in a ditch with his toes in the air.

I entered the Savoy, asked if there were any messages, collected one from Crystal who suggested we should drink some more gin together that night, gave a telephone number and asked me to call her.

When I reached my room, I put through a call.

She answered immediately.

"Hello, this is your U.S. romance speaking to you from the Savoy Hotel," I said. "I received your note and think your suggestion an excellent one. Where do we meet and when?"

"Come and pick me up at my place," she said, gave me an address in Hertford Street.

"I thought you said you lived with your father-the guy who stuffs birds."

"Oh, I'm nearly as big a kidder as you are," she giggled, hung up.

I arrived at her flat a few minutes after seven. It was over an antique furniture shop, and after climbing red-carpeted stairs I came on a small landing which served as a kitchen.

Crystal popped her corn-coloured head out of a door close by, blew me a kiss.

"Go in there," she said, pointing a bare arm at another door. "I'll join you in two twos."

"Too long to wait," I said promptly. "I'm coming in here."

She hurriedly closed the door, said through the panels that she had on only her vest, and she didn't receive gentlemen dressed like that.

"Who told you I was a gentleman?" I demanded, pounding on the door. "It's those sort of mistakes that gets a girl into trouble."

She had turned the key, but I could hear her giggling.

"Go into the sitting room and behave," she commanded.

"Okay," I said, went into the room, flopped down on the big settee. I thought the room was nice. It was comfortable, bright, full of flowers. The kind of room a man and a maid could get awfully matey in.

By my elbow was a table on which stood a bottle of whisky, a bottle of gin, a bottle of dry Vermouth, a soda syphon and a cocktail shaker.

I mixed two martinis, lit a cigarette, waited patiently.

Crystal came in after a while, wearing a scarlet house-coat, white mules and an expectant expression on her face.

"Here I am," she said, sitting beside me. She patted my hand, smiled.

I thought she looked a cute trick, gave her a martini, raised my own.

"May the bends in your figure never straighten," I said, drank half the martini, found it good. "So that stuff about your father was just a gag?"

"Not really. I have a father and he does stuff things, but I've given up living with him. I just couldn't stand it, and he couldn't stand me. I always tell my boy friends I live with him; it saves a lot of trouble when they want to see me home."

"How come I'm invited to your nest?" I asked, smiling. She fluttered her eyelids at me. "Well, if you must know, I have designs on you."

"My mother says no nice girls have designs on men."

"But who says I'm nice?" she returned, put down her glass, twined her arms around my neck.

We became intimate for the next five minutes, then I levered off her arm, pushed her away.

"Remember the News of the World," I said.

"I've got beyond the News of the World. Let's have some real ruinous fun." She put her head on my shoulder, draped my arm around her.

"In a little while," I promised, "but don't let's rush it. I meant to tell you: I saw Bradley this morning. For some reason or other he's taken a dislike to me. He won't let me into the Club anymore."

She sat up, her eyes indignant. "Why?"

I pulled her down, pushed her head back on my shoulder. "He thinks I'm too inquisitive," I said. "I don't care, so why should you?"

"I don't know if I want to go to the club again, if he's going to treat you like that," she said crossly. "Only I don't know what else I could do. You wouldn't think of keeping me, would you? I've always wanted to be a kept woman."

"I don't believe in keeping women. I think they should keep me."

"Oh, you're kidding again," she said, thumped my knee. "But seriously, wouldn't you like to keep me?"

"I'd hate it," I said gravely. "It's as much as I can do to keep myself."

She sighed. "Well, all right. I never seem to have any luck. I don't think I'll go to the club tonight. I have a chicken in the refrigerator. Let's have that and spend the evening together."

"That sounds swell."

She got up. "You sit there and look decorative. I'll fix supper."