Sitting opposite Nick is a fat man the others call Cookie. He is very tight and talkative and none of the others seems to like him.

Cookie: "I could tell you right now who killed most of the guys that get themselves killed in this man's town. A fellow that gets around as much as I do and keeps his eyes open and can put two and two together don't have to wait to read things in newspapers."

One of the men, contemptuously: "Okay, big lard, who knocked off A. R.?"

Cookie: "Don't think I don't know, but you don't have to think I'm putting the finger on guys. Listen, I could . . ." As he goes on, the orchestra begins to play again; one of the men at the table rises and bows to Nora, who gets up and goes off with him to dance, the money she took from Nick wadded in one hand. Dancing past the musician who had signaled her, she drops the money into his instrument.

Back at the table, Cookie is telling Nick: "And I could tell you plenty about Sam Church, too. Many's the bottle him and me killed in this joint and over in that gal's flat he run around with, too."

Nick: "What girl? Smitty?"

Cookie: "No-Linda Mills-the one he ditched, or got ditched by, before he took up with Smitty. A cute-looking kind of doll, I guess, under all that war-paint, but too plenty tough for me. Too plenty tough, I guess, for most guys-the way she didn't hold on to any of 'em very long. Lives over in the Chestevere Apartments."

Nick: "He must move around fast. I thought he'd only been back from Cuba ten days or so."

Cookie: "If you call this Cuba. He's been around these joints ever since he got out of stir. Say, you don't know no more about him than the police; and it's a cinch they're plenty wrong about him if they say Sam was mixed up in anything down on the Island last night. I seen him going in Vogel's at-"

Dum-Dum suddenly jumps up, reaches for his knife, which is not in its usual place at his waistband, then hits Cookie in the face with his fist. A waiter swings his tray high in the air with both hands and bangs it down on Cookie's head. As Cookie falls down on all fours another man hits him with a bottle, and then half a dozen are making flying leaps at him as the lights go out.

The orchestra, in the manner of a well-trained orchestra in a joint, continues, playing a little louder than usual. When the lights go on, Nora is one half of the only couple still dancing. Nick is the other half of the couple. Nora's former partner is coming out from under a table. Police are coming into the place. Cookie has disappeared.

Nick: "Shall we rejoin our guests, Mrs. Charles?"

Before Nora can reply, her former partner comes up to her holding one side of his jaw, saying: "Are you all right? Something b.u.mped into me something terrible."

Nick looks down at the knuckles of his right hand, but does not say anything.

They return to their table. Their uneaten dinner is a smeary mess. The police are trying to find out what happened.

Dum-Dum: "It is that Cookie. Always he want to start something-always a fight."

Nick: "I didn't see him do anything."

Waiter: "Aw, you can't wait till he does anything. It's too late then. You got to get the jump on him."

Another man: "That's right. It's a kind of look he gets in his eye."

Nick gives it up. He and Nora start to leave. Nick gets his hat and they start down the stairs.

Nora, stopping: "Oh, Asta. I checked Asta."

Nick returns to the hatcheck room and gets Asta, who has been sleeping on a pile of coats. When Asta gets up from them the hatcheck girl calmly begins to pick them up one at a time to hang them carefully on hangers.

As Nick and Nora go downstairs, Nick: "Before we get outside, darling. We have a baby-remember? You didn't check that, did you?"

Nora: "I left Nicky home with the policemen."

Nick, as they go into the street: "Oh, the policemen, of course. What policemen?"

Nora: "That Lieutenant Guild sent up to the hotel to guard him. Oh, there's the park. Let's give Asta a little run in it before we go home."

Nick, as they walk toward the park: "Did you have a chance to count the policemen?"

Nora: "I counted both of them."

Nick: "I'm glad there are only two."

Nora: "So am I, because they said they were going to stay with us till things quieted down if it took six months, and that they wouldn't be any trouble at all-we could just treat them like members of the family."

They turn Asta loose in the park and sit down wearily on a bench, where Nora immediately falls asleep. Nick is thinking. He makes up his mind, calls Asta, ties him to the bench, gets up quietly, and leaves Asta and Nora there.

At the Chestevere Apartments Nick knocks on Linda Mills's door. There is the sound of movement in the apartment, but n.o.body opens the door. Nick knocks again.

The Chestevere landlady comes out of another apartment. She is a frowsy, middle-aged woman with the sniffles. In one hand she carries a newspaper, in the other a handkerchief.

Landlady: "At this time of morning, mister, she's either asleep or ain't home yet."

She peers sharply at Nick, then down at the newspaper in her hand.

Nick cranes his neck to see his picture in the paper, then strikes the pose shown in the picture.

Landlady, all agog: "Say, you're him, ain't you?"

Nick bows.

Landlady, dabbing her nose with her handkerchief: "Well, I declare. What are you-" She lowers her voice to a noisy whisper. "Say, is she involved?"

Nick: "Who?" he whispers. The next seven lines are spoken in whispers that would be audible at a distance of twenty feet or more.

Landlady, gesturing toward the door with her handkerchief: "Mills."

Nick: "What makes you think she might be-involved, as you put it?"

Landlady: "You being here-and then that friend of hers."

Nick: "What friend?"

Landlady, raising paper to show Church's picture-rogues' gallery picture: "Him."

Nick: "Do you know him?"

Landlady: "I seen him coming in and out."

Nick: "When's the last time you seen him?"

Landlady: "I don't know. Maybe a couple of weeks. But that don't mean nothing. Sometimes I don't see my tenants for that long-them that ain't behind in their rent."

Nick: "What does Linda Mills do for a living?"

Landlady: "What do you think these girls do? I don't run no Y.M.C.A. She's been here a couple of years and she's good pay. That's all I care about. That's what I tell some of the others when they kick about her throwing noisy parties sometimes and having fights in her flat."

Nick: "How's chances of finding out whether she's in now?"

Landlady: "I'll see."

She knocks on the door, then knocks louder, calling in an unnaturally sweet voice: "Miss Mills. Miss Mills. It's me, Mrs. Dolley."

There is no answer. She dabs her nose with the handkerchief and takes a bunch of keys from her belt, unlocks the door, sticks her head in, and calls again: "Miss Mills." Then to Nick: "I guess she ain't in all right."

Nick, stepping into the apartment, pushing the door back against the wall and standing with a heel against it, holding it there: "That's too bad. Will you do me a favor?"

Landlady: "What?"

Nick: "I left the district attorney sitting out front in my car. Will you ask him to come up?"

Landlady, impressed: "Yes, sir." She hurries away.

Cookie comes out sheepishly from behind the door. He has a black eye, a swollen ear, and his clothes are torn.

Cookie: "I can explain everything if you just give me a chance."

Nick: "That's dandy. How about explaining that bag of nails at the West Indies."

Cookie: "Oh, that! Those guys get too excited."

Nick: "I agree with you, but the point is, what was it they got too excited about this morning?"

Cookie: "I don't know-unless maybe they thought I hadn't ought to dragged Linda's name in."

Nick: "You mean they're old-fashioned gentlemen who think a woman's name shouldn't be bandied about a pub?"

Cookie: "No, not exactly, but-I don't want to do the gal no harm. She and Sam Church don't pal around no more, so I don't see how I was tying her up in anything. That's what I came over here for after they threw me out of that dump-to tell her about it and see what she said."

Nick: "And?"

Cookie: "No soap. She ain't home."

Nick: "How did you get in?"

Cookie: "The door's unlocked. Try it yourself."

Nick tries the door, finds it unlocked.

Nick: "I've misunderstood the whole thing. I thought the boys ganged up on you when you mentioned Vogel's name.

Cookie: "Vogel? What Vogel?"

Nick, patiently: "You said Church wasn't down on the Island last night because you saw him going into Vogel's. And then the shindig was on."

Cookie: "Oh, sure, I remember now. I started to say I saw Sam going in Vogel's Delicatessen down on Third Avenue last night and he told me he was catching a 'leven o'clock train south, so I knew he couldn't have been down on Long Island way around one."

Nick: "Unless he was lying to you."

Cookie, earnestly: "But why would he lie to me?"

Nick: "I give up. What Vogel is this that has the delicatessen?"

Cookie: "Do I know? Sol Vogel or something."

Nick: "Not Diamond-Back Vogel?"

Cookie: "You mean the gambler? What would he be doing with a delicatessen?"

The Landlady comes back, saying: "I couldn't find no car out front with or without a district attorney."

Nick: "I'm sorry. He's such a restless fellow. Have you met Cookie?"

Landlady: "I seen him somewhere, but I never met him."

Nick: "Cookie's a friend of Linda Mills."

Landlady: "Maybe. I seen him somewhere."

Nick: "Mind if I look around?"

He goes into the living room without waiting for the landlady's reply, then into the kitchen, and finally into the bedroom. The apartment is not dirty, but there are signs that Linda Mills is a careless housekeeper. The landlady complains about cigarette burns on a table and when she touches them, she gets dust on her fingers. The bed has not been made; its two pillows are on a chair beside the bed.

Nick notices an unfaded rectangle of wallpaper the size and shape of a nearby picture, looks behind the picture, and sees that the wallpaper behind it is faded the same shade as the uncovered paper-except where a small patch of white paper has been pasted over a small hole.

He goes over to the bed. On the floor beside the bed there is a scorched spot on the rug.

Nick: "How long since either of you have seen this Mills girl?"

Cookie: "Oh, I'd say ten days anyways, maybe longer."

Landlady: "I ain't seen her in a couple of weeks, but that ain't unusual. I don't see my people much most of the time-them that ain't behind with their rent."

Nick: "What does she look like?"

The landlady and Cookie collaborate in giving him a description that would fit either Lois MacFay or the nurse, Ella Waters, with allowances for heavy makeup, flashy clothes, a tougher manner, etc.

Nick, wandering around, opening drawers: "She get much mail?"

Landlady: "Not that I know anything about."

Nick stops by a small table and, as if idly, thumbs the phone directory there.

Cookie, coming over to him, eagerly helping him turn the pages: "See, there is Sol Vogel, the delicatessen on Third Avenue. See, I didn't lie to you. See."