screen. With a last scream of the music each girl ducked from behind the screen into the wings of the stage. There was just a glimpse possible as they ran across the short open space.

“My, my, my,” said the Turtle. “Oh, my, oh, my! Why wasn’t I born a midget? My, oh, my.”

Then the music changed to strings and sax. To a slow rhythm the girls came out again holding fans in front of them. The song was a tired thing now, something about five virgins no more, but another one already catching the black baron’s fancy, another one pure and young, not knowing of the fate that lay ahead. At that point the rose light got dimmer and a white spot grew against the back curtain. It opened slowly and out walked Lily, Paar’s cigarette girl. She half sang, half talked, moving up to the ramp with a slow swing of her hips.

Catell picked up the Turtle’s half-full glass and poured it down.

“Christ,” said the Turtle. “She can’t sing, Tony.”

“Shut up!”

“All I said—”

“Shut up!” Catell’s voice sounded raspy.

Lily was standing still now, doing her lines, and her only movements were those made by her breathing. She was wearing a long, plain dress, all white, and like the things on the hostesses, the cloth held her body like a second skin. But Lily looked like no snake; Lily looked like a woman.

When her song was over the lights went dead. After a minute they went on again, showing the stage empty.

Catell got to his feet. Then a smooth voice said:

“Leaving so soon?”

Topper was standing beside the table.

“I said, are you leaving already?”

“How are you, Topper? Nice club you got here,” Catell said.

“And who’s the runt with you?” Topper asked.

Catell sat down again and kneaded the fingers of one hand. “Topper,” he said, “I want you to try to watch that tone of voice. You’re talking about a friend of mine, and when it comes to crappers like you I don’t mind getting my hands dirty messing you up.”

“Now, now, Catell, that nasty, nasty temper of yours. I don’t think Mr. Smith would approve of any of this. We should try and be friends. Don’t you think so, Bugeye?” He turned to the Turtle.

Catell jumped up, but Topper had already stepped back and around the table. He stumbled against the Turtle, who hadn’t said a word, but then regained his balance. With a bored expression he turned and left.

“Turtle, listen. I’m sorry about this and I promise you the sonofabitch will pay for it. Right now I’m trying not to make a commotion, but believe me, he’s going to pay for this, Turtle. So—”

“Stop jabbering, Antonio. He’s paid already, so let the poor sap go.” The Turtle leaned back, looking disinterested.

“Turtle, listen, I mean it.”

“Can that sentimentation, friend. And let poor Topper go. Like I say, he paid already.” Turtle reached into his jacket pocket and showed the edge of a thick sheath of bills.

“Christ! Turtle—”

“Anthony, you are sentimentating again. Now let me finish.”

From his breast pocket the Turtle pulled another handful of folded bills, letting just the edge of them show from under his hand.

“What did you do with the wallet? Are you trying to get us killed right here, you jerk?”

“Anthony, of what you speak, I know all about it. Now slosh another drink for yourself while I return the recriminating evidence.”

“Why, you nut! How—”

“Quiet. I am an artist.” The Turtle left the table.

Topper was standing near the archway of the room, greeting two men who had just walked in.

“Did we miss the show, Topper?” one of the men asked.

“You did, Larry, but why don’t you catch the one in the Boudoir, or in the Shell Room?”

“Second best, Topper. I wanted my friend Jackie Herron to see Lily. Jackie, you oughta see Lily sometime, if only out of scientific curiosity. She doesn’t do a damn thing, and you should see how it goes over. Topper, meet my friend Jackie.”

Topper shook hands with the one called Jackie, but they didn’t pay much attention to each other. Jackie seemed to be watching one of the hostesses, and Topper was watching Larry.

“There’s nothing going on today, Larry. No celebrities.”

“Topper wants to get rid of us, Jackie,” Larry said, but Herron wasn’t paying attention. He had been watching the backside of Miss Rosemary, and now he was watching her front.

“You want to be introduced?” Topper said.

“Oh, ah, why not?” Herron tried to look unconcerned.

“I’ll tell you why not.” Larry took Herron by the