More Deadly Than The Male

George drew in a quick breath. What else had he expected? he thought angrily. There was time for that when they got a place of their own.

"That's settled, then," Little Ernie said. "Well, I've got to shoot off. Must 'ave a word with the girls before turning in, you know. Gotta encourage 'ern, bless their sweet 'carts. I'll be seeing you. Make yourself at 'ome," he went on, looking at George. "I'll see you tomorrow." He nodded, gave Cora a quick, searching glance, and went off, moving softly, like a ghost.

George and Cora stood silent until they heard the front door click shut, and then Cora said sharply, "You dotty or something? Ernie can help us. What do you want to bark at him for?"

"He's a filthy little rat," George said, clenching his fists. "I saw the way he kept looking at you."

"So what?" Cora said, sitting on the settee. "Why should you care, if I don't?"

George stood over her. This was the time. It was now or never. One of them had to be master, and if he were to have any peace in his life, it must not be Cora.

"Because you're my girl," he said. "I love you, Cora. You're on your own, and you need someone to look after you. Well, I'm going to be that someone."

She leaned hack and crossed her legs. "You?" she said. "Don't make me laugh. What have you got to offer me? Why, you can't even look after yourself."

"We'll see about that," George said grimly. "If Ernie tries any funny stuff, he'll be sorry!"

Cora's jeering expression suddenly changed to blazing rage. "If you interfere with me," she exclaimed, jumping up, "I'll make you sorry! I'm going to do what I like! I'm in the market. The man who offers most gets me."

Again George's slow mind groped for inspiration from Frank Kelly. Kelly always kept his women. He treated them tough and loaded them with jewels. But how could he do that? Now he had got Sydney out of the way, he wasn't going to lose her. Little Ernie could give her the world. He had just got to compete with Little Ernie.

"What do you want?" he asked abruptly, struggling to conceal his doubts and fears.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"You're in the market, aren't you?" he said, clenching his fists. "Well, then, what's the price?"

"I think you must be drunk or mad," she said angrily, and turned away. "What can you give me? Leave me alone and peddle your silly hooks!"

George sat down. He took out a cigarette and lit it. His hands were steady, his mind coldly determined.

"I've got nothing now," he said, "but I can get it. You don't want to throw yourself away on a little rat like Ernie. Name something and you shall have it."

"Oh, shut up!" Cora snapped. "You're nothing but a cheap bluffer. You live in dreams. I want more than dreams, and I'm going to have more than dreams."

The Luger dug into George's hip. It gave him extraordinary confidence in himself. Thoughts crowded into his desperate frustrated mind. He had killed a man! Nothing else that he could do could be worse than that. Even if he killed another man, it wouldn't be worse than the first killing. Once a gangster kills there is no stopping him. He had read that somewhere, and it was true. Sooner or later Crispin's body would be found. Bodies were always found. Then the hunt would be on. If the police didn't get him, then Emily and Max and the two Greeks would. Well, until then he was going to live his life to the full. He was going to have Cora. He wasn't enduring this black, ghastly frustration any longer. If he had to buy her, then he'd buy her, no matter what the cost.

He reached out suddenly and caught hold of Cora's arm. He jerked her down beside him on the settee. The silk wrap parted, and he had a momentary glimpse of her that tipped the scales of his sanity. He caught her to him and held her, his great strength crushing her, frightening her.

"What do you want?" he said, her hair against his face. "I mean it. There's nothing I can't get for you."

"Let me go!" she said. "Will you let me go!"

He released her and sat back.

"Well?" he said. "What do you want?"

Cora could scarcely believe this was the same man. The hard face, the wild, desperate eyes, chilled her. But she was quick to see that she must call this ridiculous bluff. In his present state of mind, she felt he was dangerous. He might do anything unless she provided an outlet for his pent-up, violent repression.

"I want a complete outfit," she said. "And I want it now. Give me that, if you can, you cheap bluffer."

George looked at her steadily. "You mean clothes?"

"Of course, I mean clothes. I want something to wear when I go out tomorrow morning. I want a complete outfit. And don't think I can't get it. I've only to ask Little Ernie."

"I'll get you the money," George said slowly.

"I don't want the money, I want the clothes. I want something decent to put on when I get up tomorrow morning.