watch. âWhy didnât you kick me out, Miss Paris? All those people waiting out there ââ
âMy girls take care of most of them, and itâs a relief to be listened to for a change. And youâre a splendid listener, Mr. Queen.â She rose, too, and extended her hand. âIâm afraid I havenât been much help.â
He took her hand, and after a moment she gently withdrew it.
âHelp?â said Ellery. âOh, yes. Yes, youâve been of tremendous service. By the way, can you suggest the surest means of treeing those four?â
âTodayâs Friday. Of course. You go down to the Horseshoe Club on Wilshire Boulevard tomorrow night.â
âHorseshoe Club,â said Ellery dutifully, watching her mouth.
âDonât you know it? Itâs probably the most famous gambling place in Los Angeles. Run by Alessandro, a very clever gentleman with a very dark past. Youâll find them there.â
âAlessandroâs,â said Ellery. âYes.â
âLetâs see.â She turned her head a little, trying to avoid his questioning eyes. âThereâs no opening tomorrow night â yes, theyâll be there, Iâm sure.â
âWill they let me in? Iâm a stranger in town.â
âWould you like me to arrange it?â she asked demurely. âIâll call Alessandro. He and I have an understanding.â
âYouâre simply wonderful.â Then he said hastily: âI mean, so â Look, Miss Paris. Or why not Paula? Do you mind? Would you â I mean, could you bring yourself to accompany ââ
âGoodbye, Mr. Queen,â said Paula with a faint smile.
âBut would you do me the honour ââ
âItâs been so nice talking to you. Drop in again.â
That damned phobia!
âI warn you,â he said grimly. âYou may live to regret that invitation.â
And, a little blindly, Mr. Queen made his way to the street.
What a lovely day! he thought, breathing deeply, drinking in the lovely sky, the lovely trees, even the lovely Spanish-style houses all about that supremely lovely white-frame cottage which housed surely the loveliest self-imprisoned Juliet in the history of romantic heroines.
And suddenly he remembered Vixâs cynical remark two days before: âYouâll fall for her like all the rest.â The rest ⦠That implied a host of admirers. Well, why not? She was delectable and piquant to the jaded male palate, like a strange condiment. And what sort of figure did he cut in this land of brown, brawny, handsome men?
The loveliness went out of everything.
Crushed, Mr. Queen crept into his car and drove away.
Saturday night found him in a dinner-jacket at the Horseshoe Club, cursing his wasted years of singleness and, his thoughts still hovering over a certain white-frame cottage in the Hollywood hills, not greatly caring if he cornered his quarry or not.
âWhere can I find Alessandro?â he asked a bartender.
âIn his office.â The man pointed, and Ellery skirted the horseshoe-shaped bar, threaded his way across the packed dance-floor past the orchestra stand where a swaying quadroon moaned a love-song, and entered a silk-hung passage at the terminus of which stood a chrome-steel door.
Ellery went up to it and knocked. It was opened at once by a hard-looking gentleman in tails who appropriately gave him a hard look.
âYeah?â
âAlessandro?â
âSo who wants him?â
âOh, go away,â said Ellery, and he pushed the hard-looking gentleman aside. An apple-cheeked little man with China-blue eyes wearing a huge horseshoe-shaped diamond on his left hand smiled up at him from behind a horseshoe-shaped desk.
âMy name is Queen. Paula Paris told me to look you up.â
âYes, she called me.â Alessandro rose and offered his fat little hand. âAny friend of Paulaâs is welcome