She's hysterical about his family using
all their money to put her in jail. I looks at her, and says,
'You won't need their money to get to jail. That old man's
dead!' Her eyes was as big as saucers. 'I thought old Daddy Van
Cleft was drunk.' I tells her, 'He was dead in that taxi, with a
chorus girl, and a roll of bills gone. What you got to say?'
She staggers forward and clutches my coat, and what do you think
SHE says to me?"
Shirley made the inquiry only with his eyes, puffing his
cigarette slowly.
"She looks sorter green, and repeats after me: 'Dead, with a
chorus girl, and a roll of bills gone,'--just like a parrot.
Then she springs this on me: 'My God, it's the third!'"
Shirley dropped his cigarette, leaning forward, all nonchalance
gone.
"Where is she now? Quick, let's go to her."
He rose to his feet. Just then a door-boy walked through the
grill-room toward him. "A telephone call for Captain Cronin,
sir; the party said hurry or he would miss something good."
Shirley snapped out, "When has the rule about telephone calls in
this club been changed? You boys are never to tell any one that
a member or guest are here until the name is announced.
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