Get a Load of This

     The driver recognized him and gaped, then he looked past Slug and saw Rose. His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips. “Where to, buddy?” he asked. “A run round the park?”

     Slug scowled at him. “'Ambassadors',” he said shortly, jerking open the door.

     The driver whistled. “O.K., big-shot,” he said, “'Ambassadors' it is.”

     Slug climbed in and sat down beside Rose. She had settled herself in a corner and had arranged her dress carefully on the seat so that Slug had to squash himself up in the far corner to avoid crushing it. Behind this brittle but impassable barrier, she surveyed him with a bright smile.

     “Gee! I can hardly believe that we're going to the 'Ambassadors',” she said. “Harry will be green with envy when I tell him.”

     Slug scowled. “You better lay off seein' that guy any more,” he said. “You're my girl now, an' I don't like other guys hornin' in on my ground.”

     She laughed. “Don't be silly,” she said. “I'm nobody's girl. I go where I like and do what I like and no one dictates to me.”

     Slug looked at her and decided that it wasn't time to try any heavy stuff. This dame was tough and would want a lot of handling; but looking at her in the flickering lights of the passing street lamps, he decided that any trouble would be well repaid with a dame of this class.

     He reached out a hand and tried to take hers, but she avoided him. “Please don't,” she said a little sharply. “I don't want my dress to get creased.”

     Slug sat back with a little scowl, but she immediately went on to ask him about the fight and talked to him gaily until his good humour was restored.

     The cab slowed down and then swung into the kerb. The door was opened by a tall, uniformed porter, who touched his peaked cap respectfully with a snowy white glove.

     Slug got out hurriedly and stood in the bright lights from the big neon sign that spelled 'Ambassadors'. He paid the cab-driver and gave the porter some small change. Then he followed Rose through the revolving doors that were kept on the move by two bell-hops dressed in white with scarlet pill-box hats.

     The big hall was crowded with people who stood about laughing and talking, waiting for their parties to arrive. Feeling that he would like the earth to open and swallow him up, Slug slunk along behind Rose, who moved across the hall towards the ladies' room. She turned for a moment and said, “I'll meet you here in a few minutes,” and disappeared through a group of expensively dressed women.

     Slug looked helplessly round, conscious that the women were eyeing him with interest. A guy suddenly appeared at his elbow, dressed in what looked like a fantastic fancy dress, and took his hat from him. “This way, sir,” he said, in a soothing voice, and led Slug over to the cloakroom, where a hat-check girl was checking in a big party of men.

     Slug watched with round eyes the casual way these guys tossed dollars into a plate on the counter as each received a check. Finally his turn came and the girl looked at him with a friendly smile as she gave him his number. Slug thought she'd make a nice tumble, and put his dollar in the plate without any regrets.

     “Some joint,” he said hoarsely, “sortta puts the White House in the shade, don't it?”

     The girl gave him a quick, puzzled glance, smiled again automatically and went on giving out numbers.

     Slug drifted back towards the ladies' room and concealed himself as best he could behind a large clump of palms that swayed a little from a huge brass tub.

     He hadn't been standing there more than a few minutes, when a tall, distinguished-looking man, holding an elaborately designed leather folder, approached him. “You are taking the dinner, monsieur?” he asked, bowing to Slug, who gave ground.

     “What the hell's it to do with you what I'm doin'?” Slug asked fiercely.

     The man remained quite unperturbed. “You will pardon me, monsieur,” he said quietly, “I am merely here to make your visit a pleasant one. Is monsieur alone? Has monsieur booked a table?”

     It dawned on Slug that this guy was trying to help him, and he clutched his arm as if he expected him to lose patience with him and go away.

     “Listen, pal,” he said urgently, “you're just the guy I was lookin' for. I gotta dame here, see? She's class, do you get it? I want this little business to go off good. I got the dough, an' I want you to fix the rest for me. O.K.?”

     The man bowed. “Certainly, monsieur,” he said; “you would like to leave all the arrangements to me?”

     “You got it, pal, you got it,” Slug said feverishly. “Just give the dame a good time.”

     The man made a little note inside the folder. “When you are ready, monsieur, your table is number eighteen. Just through that door on your right. Everything will be to your entire satisfaction.”

     He went away smoothly as if he were being drawn along on wheels.

     Feeling that he had at least one friend in the camp, Slug took up his position rather impatiently behind the palm again.

     Rose came out of the ladies' room eventually, looking cool and beautiful. She seemed to fit in with the luxurious background.