“Say, yeah, do that, willya? Here’s a buck and you can keep the change. Anything ’cept toonafish. Me, I don’t like toonafish.”
Kevin took Daisy and Lambert down. “That guy’s O.K. for a bull,” he said grudgingly. “Some people, they expect you to fetch ’em summat out of your own pocket, and then when they pay you they want the change!”
“He must be grateful that you told him where to find Sergeant Gilligan,” Daisy suggested.
“He’s O.K. Say, where you gonna eat, ma‘am? ’Cause if you’re going out and you don’t want nuttin fancy, there’s a swell Eyetie place just round on Seventh Avenoo. Looigi’s. Tell ’em I sent you and they’ll give you the works.”
With a commission to the boy, no doubt, Daisy guessed, asking directions. She wondered just how many pies he had his fingers in. A sudden thought struck her. No one knewmore than Kevin about what was going on in the hotel, at least during the day.
“Kevin,” she said impulsively, “will you let me know, and Mr. Lambert, too, if any rough-looking strangers ask about me?”
His blue eyes widened. “Geeeez!” he breathed, impressed, “are they after you, ma’am?”
“Probably not, but just to be on the safe side.”
“Sure! Don’t you worry none, Mrs. Fletcher, ma’am, I got my ways of finding out things. If any tough sticks his nose through them doors, you’ll hear about it long afore he gets to asking questions.”
“That’s a weight off my mind,” said Daisy as the lift reached the lobby. “Thank you, Kevin.”
“You just stay here a minute, ma’am, while I go make sure the coast’s clear.” Kevin dashed off, to return a moment later looking disappointed. “All clear,” he reported. “By the time you get back after lunch, I’ll’ve gotten everything fixed up, so don’t worry!”
“You’ve made his day,” said Lambert a trifle sourly. “I can take care of you if there’s any trouble, you know. I’ve got my automatic.”
“Thatisa relief,” said Daisy, hoping she sounded sincere. Judging by what had happened last time he drew his gun, she would on the whole have preferred him to be unarmed.
They had a delicious and uneventful meal, served by a befreckled cousin of Kevin’s who was married to the Italian proprietor-chef. Lambert insisted on paying for Daisy’s lunch, saying grandly, “I’ll put it on expenses.” He then proceeded to embarrass her thoroughly.
“Stay there a minute,” he ordered, as she picked up herhandbag preparatory to leaving. To the bewilderment of the few other lunchers, he went to the window, stood to one side, and peered out. Returning to Daisy, he said from one side of his mouth, “Looks O.K. I don’t see anyone suspicious.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Gee, anyone that’s not moving along. Not the newsboy, of course. Anyone hanging around with nothing special to do, I guess.”
“Lurking?” Daisy said unkindly, as he helped her on with her coat.
Telltale ears red but undeterred, Lambert preceded her to the door, which was set back in an alcove from the pavement (sidewalk, Daisy reminded herself). Again he told her to wait. After once more scrutinizing the far side of the street, through the glass door, he opened it just enough to slip out. His hat pulled down over his horn-rims, his hand in the breast of his coat, he tiptoed to the corner and stuck his head around just far enough to be able to gaze up and down the street.
Glancing back, he gave Daisy a significant nod, which she interpreted as permission to join him. Lambert’s desire to be a federal agent, she decided, stemmed not from any burning ambition to uphold the law but simply from a love of cloak-and-dagger adventure. She couldn’t take the possibility of danger seriously while he was play-acting.
“Can you pull your hat down further?” he asked in an urgent whisper.
“Not without crushing my hair,” she said tartly, in a normal voice. “The villains can’t possibly have much of a description of my face.”
“I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly. “O.K., let’s go.”
“Would you mind very much taking your hand away from your gun? It makes me rather twitchy. People don’t carry guns around in England, you see, not even the police. And I can’t help feeling that wearing your hat so low may not only hamper your ability to see but draw unwanted attention.”
“Aw, gee, do you think so?” Crestfallen, he pushed it up.
“It’s a frightfully good idea,” Daisy hastened to assure him. “It conceals your features jolly well. But perhaps this isn’t quite the right situation.”
Lambert nodded. “I’m kind of new at this,” he acknowledged, “so I guess no one knows my features yet anyhow.”
“Exactly! I’m sure they’ll be famous one day.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said dubiously. “I figure agents are supposed to stay anonymous.” His hand moved towards his hat brim, but after a moment’s uncertainty, he turned up his coat collar instead.
As the hotel, with its red-and-white-striped awning, was already in sight, Daisy held her tongue. After all, the breeze was quite chilly, if nowhere near biting enough to justify such a sartorial lapse. But if she had to go outdoors with him again, she would suggest a muffler to hide his ingenuous face in a more conventional manner.
