and it made his arms inert. Stone's left shot up to the angle of the jaw and Padilla fell with a crash to the dancing floor, face down.
The crowd writhed like a nest of snakes as it surged forward while Jim Grimm and his aides held them back and Ned Grimm counted off the seconds in a stentorian voice.
At the count of nine Padilla's body had not even twitched. Grimm could have counted fifty instead of his final triumphant "and out!" Lefty was forcing Stone's clothes on him. Healy was again with them, urging instant departure. Jim Grimm came over, gripping Stone's hand.
"America wins!" he said. "Hope to see you again, sir. Look me up at Bakersfield. But take my tip now and get across the line. There'll be hell to pay in collecting these bets and you'll not be in favour if they see you around. Take a jitney and vamose."
Stone looked round for the girl but there was no hope of locating her in such a mêlée. Healy was tugging at him. Lefty advised flight.
The drivers had all been at the ringside and they inspected several cars before a man came to them.
"Want to get back to Calexico?" he asked. "This way."
He led them to a better type of car than most of the machines. Before they reached it he tapped Stone on the shoulder.
"Better go on ahead," he said. "There's someone waitin' for you in the tonneau. A dame. Lola," he whispered.
