"The national syndicate of crime? Is that what you mean? Are you one of the directors?" He nodded slowly and said admiringly, "Baby, you're not only beautiful, you've got a mind like a trip-hammer." "Go on." "There was the last thing such a board of directors would ever want. A fight." "Someone was hurt?" "Killed." "Oh, I see." But she did not see. The words came automatically. What did Jeanne-Marie--or Mary-Jean--know of murder? "I was fingered," Lucky said. "You did it?" "I say I didn't do it. Who do you believe?" "I don't believe anyone," Jeanne-Marie said, the words coming quickly to her, apparently plucked from air. "I never believe anyone. What's the difference?" "Plenty of difference. Because I'm getting out of here. But I'll never get out alone. They're looking for a single man. I can get out with you, I think." Just then, before Jeanne-Marie could answer, he leaned forward quickly and kissed her. Jeanne-Marie stiffened and then relaxed for a moment, then stiffened again. She pushed him away gently, saying curtly, "Don't try that again." "I can't figure you out," he said. "One minute you talk like a woman who's been around, the next like some dilly of a housewife from suburbia. What do you think I kissed you for? Just because you're beautiful? Hell, I've seen beautiful girls before. Plenty of them, and some as beautiful as you. Well, almost, anyway," he added, and they both smiled. "I kissed you because one of the cops drifted through. Listen, baby. Will you be my passport out of here?" "Why should I be?" Jeanne-Marie asked him coolly. "Because I'm asking you. Because maybe fate meant we should meet like this tonight--" "Oh, now, really," Jeanne-Marie said. "You don't mean that and you know you don't. One sure way _not_ to get me to do anything for you is to throw me a line like that." Lucky shrugged. "O.K., baby. If you were in my place, what would you do?" "Umm-mm. I see what you mean. But I wouldn't throw you such an obvious line if I threw you a line at all." "Can I force you to come with me?" "I don't know. Can you?" "O.K.," Lucky smiled. "Let's try it. I've got a gun in my pocket, baby." She grinned back at him. "That's nice." "Maybe I'm pointing it at you under the table. Well, it's possible, isn't it?" "It's possible." "How'm I doing?" "Pretty good--if I thought you had a gun. Anyway, I like it much better than the line." "Good. If you don't get up and walk with me, quietly, walk right out of here with me--I'll use the gun. I'm desperate. Do you believe me?" * * * * * "No," Jeanne-Marie said promptly. For all his hard, capable good looks, Lucky seemed crestfallen. "But," Jeanne-Marie added slowly, "I'll go with you. As far as the street and no further." Lucky squeezed her hand and signaled for the waiter. "I'll pay the check," he said. "You're darned right you will," she said, and they both laughed.