the doorman while Babbing ransomed himself from the taximeter.
The detective, in his raincoat, with his umbrella, wandered into the gilded lobby of the Haarlem, looking about him simply. He found the cigar stand, and approached it, with Barney, as if it were a booth at a county fair. The clerk saw them coming. It showed in his face.
Babbing said: “Padages Palmas.”
The clerk did not move. He was New York accosted by the provinces. “What did you say?”
Babbing regarded him a moment, mildly thoughtful. He cleared his throat. “Young man,” he said, “I want a seegar called the Padages Palmas. It ’s a fairly well-known Havana, but the easiest way for you to tell it, when you see it, is to read the name on the band around the middle.”
The clerk had turned his back to get a box from the shelves behind him. His ears were red.
