The dog stared at Ken. Its eyes were like those of its master: dark, protruding and bloodshot.

Ken went on up the stairs. When he reached the top landing he paused. As he had walked up the remaining stairs, he had been listening for sounds of the fat man going down, but he had heard nothing.

He stepped softly to the banister rail and looked over.

On the landing below, the fat man stood motionless, looking up. Their eyes met and the fat man smiled. It was a curious sly, knowing smile, and it startled Ken. The Pekinese also looked up. Its flat, black-muzzled face was stolid with indifference.

Ken moved hurriedly back, and turned to face the green-painted front door on the far side of the landing. He was aware that his heart was pounding and his nerves were jumpy. The encounter with the fat man had shaken him.

If he hadn't been sure the fat man was still standing on the lower landing, Ken would have about faced and got out of the house as quickly as he could. But the idea of having to pa.s.s the fat man again was more than his shaken nerves could stand.

Wishing now he hadn't been such a reckless fool as to come to this house, Ken gingerly pushed the bell b.u.t.ton.

II.

The front door opened almost immediately.

The girl who held the door open was dark, vivacious and pretty. At a guess she was twenty-three or four. Her hair, dressed to her shoulders, was as black as a raven's wing. She had wide-set, blue eyes, a big, generous, scarlet-painted mouth and a friendly smile that did much to restore Ken's shaken nerves. . She wore a pale blue summer frock, and the shape he saw under the frock set his heart thumping.

"h.e.l.lo," she said, standing aside. "Come on in."

He was aware of her quick, searching scrutiny. What she saw seemed to please her, for she gave him another flashing smile as he walked awkwardly into a big, airy sitting room.

Before the empty fireplace stood a ma.s.sive leather couch. Three lounging chairs, a radiogram, a television set, a big walnut liquor cabinet, and a dining table that stood in the bay window completed the furnishing.

Bowls of flowers stood on the table, the top of the radiogram and on the mantelpiece.

The girl closed the front door and moved over to the liquor cabinet. She rolled her hips deliberately as she walked, and glanced over her shoulder to see his reaction.

Ken was reacting. He thought she had a sensational figure.

"Make yourself at home," she said. "Sit down and relax. I'm absolutely harmless, and you don't have to be shy or frightened of me."

"I'm not frightened of you," Ken said, warming to her. "It's just I'm not used to this sort of thing."

She laughed.

"I should hope not. A nice boy like you shouldn't need anyone like me." She quickly mixed two highb.a.l.l.s as she talked. "What's the idea, Buster?" she went on. "Your girl let you down?"

Ken felt himself go hot.

"Not exactly."

She carried the drinks over to the couch and sat beside him.

"Sorry; that slipped out. I didn't mean to stick my nose where it isn't wanted," she said. "It's just you're not the type I usually meet." She gave him one of the tall gla.s.ses. "I'm in luck tonight Here's to fun, Buster."

Ken was glad of the highball. He hadn't expected anything like this. The set-up wasn't sordid at all. The room was better than his own sitting room.

The girl was like one of the girls at his bank, only a lot prettier. He would never have guessed she was what she was.

"Are you in a rush to get away?" she asked, crossing one slim leg over the other and carefully adjusting her skirt to cover her knee.

"Why no. That is ..."

"That's fine. There's nothing I hate more than the guy who tears in here, and tears out again. Most of them do. I guess their wives are waiting for them. Do you want to stay here?"

Ken hesitated. He would have liked nothing better, but he remembered his determination not to get himself involved in anything he would regret later.

"I guess not," he said awkwardly. "The fact is - I really only want - I thought we could do a show or something like that."

The girl looked quickly at him, then smiled.

"Of course, if that's what you really want. But look, Buster, it's going to cost you the same one way or the other. So you can please yourself."

"Let's go out," Ken said, feeling himself grow hot. He took out his billfold. "Shall we settle the financial arrangements now?"

"Twenty bucks: does that sound like h.e.l.l?" she said, smiling at him.

"That's all right," Ken said, and gave her two tens.

"It's okay with me if you want to change your mind," she said, getting up. "Let's see how we go, shall we?"

She crossed the room went into another room and returned immediately.

"Well, now," she said, sitting on the arm of his chair. "What shall we do?"

He found her presence disturbing. Already his determination to behave was wilting.

"I thought we might go to a nightclub," he said. "I'll have to be careful not to be seen."

"Don't worry about that. We'll go to the Blue Rose. I bet none of your pals ever go to a joint like that. You'll have fun, and the drinks aren't too poisonous. I must change. Do you want to come in?"

Ken looked blank.

"That's all right. I'll sit here."

"You're a funny guy. I have to keep most of them out with a shotgun. Don't be too shy, will you?"

"That's okay," Ken muttered, not looking at her.

She gave him a puzzled stare, shook her head, and went into the bedroom, leaving the door wide open.

Ken sat still while he wrestled with his conscience. It would have been easier and so much less complicated if she had run true to type. If she had been a hard little floosie, his coming here wouldn't have taken on this disconcerting personal atmosphere.

"For goodness' sake, Buster," the girl said, coming to the bedroom door, "stop looking like the wrath of G.o.d. What's the matter?"

She came over to where he was sitting took the highball out of his hand and put it on the table. She dropped on her knees in front of him.

"We have plenty of time," she said. "We can go out later." She slid her arms around his neck. "Kiss me, Buster."

Throwing caution to the winds, he caught her to him, his mouth coming down on hers.

III.

It was ten-thirty when they left the apartment. They met no one on the stairs, and they picked up a pa.s.sing taxi outside the house.

"The Blue Rose," the girl said to the driver. "122nd Street."

In the dark seclusion of the taxi she sat close to Ken, holding his hand.

"I like you, Buster," she said, "You don't know what a change you are to the usual guys I get snarled up with."

Ken smiled at her, not saying anything. He felt relaxed and happy. This night was off the record: hours that didn't count in his routine of life. In this way, he had got the better of his conscience. He knew he had been extraordinarily lucky to find a girl like Fay to share this stolen night out. By tomorrow the whole episode would be behind him: a memory he would have for the rest of his days. It would never happen again, he a.s.sured himself. He wouldn't want it to happen again. But now it was happening, he would be a fool not to enjoy every second of it.

He looked at Fay as they pa.s.sed a battery of neon lights advertising a cereal food. The blue, green and red lights lit up the interior of the cab.

She looked extraordinarily attractive, he thought, in the electric blue, full-skirted frock, cut low to show to advantage her creamy white shoulders. Around her throat she wore a necklace of dark blue beads that emphasized the blueness of her eyes.

He had forgotten he had paid her twenty dollars for this night out. It was odd, but he felt as if he had gone back five years and was spending the kind of night he had so often spent before he met Ann.

"Do you like dancing, Buster?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure; do you?"

"I love it. I used to earn a living as a dancer, then things went wrong. I lost my partner, and I couldn't find another, so I gave it up. We used to give exhibitions at the Blue Rose. It's not a bad little club. I think you'll like it."

"What happened to your partner?" Ken asked, merely to carry on the conversation.

He saw her face tighten.

"Oh, he went away. He wasn't the type to stick at anything for long."

Ken felt instinctively that this was a sore point with her, and he changed the subject.

"Who's the fat man who lives in the apartment below yours? The one with the Pekinese ?"

She turned her head sharply to look at him.

"Did you see him, then?"

"I met him on the stairs."

Fay made a little grimace.

"He's a horrible little louse. No one knows what he does for a living. His name's Raphael Sweeting, believe it or not. He's always stopping me on the stairs. He uses that lap dog of his as an excuse to talk."

The cab slowed down and pulled up outside a tall, dark building.

They got out of the cab, and Ken paid off the driver.

"Is this it?" he said, staring up at the building.

"It's down this alley," Fay said, slipping her arm through his. "You needn't be scared you'll meet anyone you know. The members are strictly limited, and they don't come from your part of the world."

Ken followed her down the narrow alley. At the end of it was a heavy oak door with a judas window. Over the door, fashioned cleverly from neon tubes was a big blue rose. Its blue light reflected faintly on the gleaming bra.s.s of the door's fitments.

Fay touched a bell push by the side of the door.

They stood, side by side, waiting.

Away in the far distance came a rumble of thunder.

"Hear that?" Ken said.

"I've been expecting a storm all the evening. Let's hope it cools the air."

The judas window slid back and a white thin face with hard expressionless eyes appeared for a brief moment, then the door opened.

"Evening, Miss Carson."

The man who had opened the door was short and thickset with a mop of blond wavy hair. He eyed Ken over, and gave him a brief nod.

"h.e.l.lo, Joe," Fay said, smiling. "Busy tonight?"

"So, so," Joe returned. "Your table's free."

She nodded and led Ken across the bare lobby, down a pa.s.sage to another heavy door. As she opened the door, the sound of a dance band reached them.

They walked down red-carpeted stairs where a hatcheck girl took Ken's hat. They went on into a big ornate bar.

There were a number of people in the bar, and Ken looked at them uneasily.