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           There’sbeentoomuchofthisstuff,andwegota’rangementwiththenewspaperssothatyougetalittlefreepublicity.Notthenameofthehotel,butjustalinesayin’thatyouhadalittletroublein’lanticCity.See?"

           "Isee."

           "You’regettin’offlight—damnlight—but—"

           "Comeon,"saidAmorybriskly."Let’sgetoutofhere.Wedon’tneedavaledictory."

           OlsonwalkedthroughthebathroomandtookacursoryglanceatAlec’sstillform.Thenheextinguishedthelightsandmotionedthemtofollowhim.AstheywalkedintotheelevatorAmoryconsideredapieceofbravado—yieldedfinally.HereachedoutandtappedOlsononthearm.

           "Wouldyoumindtakingoffyourhat?There’saladyintheelevator."

           Olson’shatcameoffslowly.Therewasaratherembarrassingtwominutesunderthelightsofthelobbywhilethenightclerkandafewbelatedguestsstaredatthemcuriously;theloudlydressedgirlwithbenthead,thehandsomeyoungmanwithhischinseveralpointsaloft;theinferencewasquiteobvious.Thenthechilloutdoors—wherethesaltairwasfresherandkeenerstillwiththefirsthintsofmorning.

           "Youcangetoneofthosetaxisandbeatit,"saidOlson,pointingtotheblurredoutlineoftwomachineswhosedriverswerepresumablyasleepinside.

           "Good-by,"saidOlson.Hereachedinhispocketsuggestively,butAmorysnorted,and,takingthegirl’sarm,turnedaway.

           "Wheredidyoutellthedrivertogo?"sheaskedastheywhirledalongthedimstreet.

           "Thestation."