"Well, well," one of them said, "the brain trust." He surveyed Flinn with frank interest, then faced Hayes. "Say, buddy, how does a man get a transfer out of this outfit?" Hayes grinned his wolfish grin. "All in good time, partner." He pointed with his chin upstairs and raised his eyebrows. The man who had spoken, a large, broad-shouldered youngster with an affably homely face, got up, stepped back from the table, and went into a vaudevillian travesty of a bow. "The great man has been prepared and awaits your presence." Then his expression changed. "What a party! I never saw so much liquor in my life! It's a lucky thing the rumpus room is soundproof." "And girls!" one of the seated men said. "Man, oh, man!" Flinn looked at Wilmer, and Wilmer shrugged as if to say, "That's the way it is." "Just don't forget what you're here for," Hayes said harshly. "Don't fret," the big man said. "None of us touched a drop." "Neither did Dobbs," one of the seated men interjected. "I guess that's the only reason he's alive today." He guffawed loudly and suggestively. Hayes leading, they entered a hallway and turned toward a flight of stairs. "Your boys seemed very off-hand about all this," Flinn said to the government agent. "Don't kid yourself," Hayes replied. "They're as nervous as cats." * * * * * "Come in, gentlemen," Dobbs called amiably from the rear of the spacious bedroom. There was an unobtrusive man in a dark suit with him, but he left immediately. Now that he was face to face with the enigmatic Mr. Dobbs, Flinn felt a momentary sense of disappointment. Malcolm Dobbs sat in a straight-backed chair beside the large bed. Next to him was a table laden with empty breakfast dishes. Dobbs was dressed in an ordinary bathrobe. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and had a full head of dark hair, slightly gray at the temples. His mild, undistinguished face was only slightly less tanned than Wilmer's, and he was of average size and weight. His dark eyes were the only things that belied the man's composed exterior; they were intelligent, interested, and intently watchful. A tiny smile lingered upon Dobbs' lips, as if he were sharing only with himself some form of immensely funny but eminently private joke. Flinn's total impression of the man was that he was not the sort one would look at twice in a crowded room--under different circumstances. "Another delegation?" Dobbs asked. "Hello, Jack, Hayes." "Mal this is Mr. Dugan," Wilmer said, indicating Flinn. "He's from the government."