Chicago, and he had never before seen him with his hair mussed, his face bloated and twelve hours' growth of black beard darkening his face.
"Dougherty 'phoned he thought you was on your way," the girl now volunteered to Lucas, "so I tried to give him a rouse; but nothing was doing. Want to smoke?" And she stretched out a gold-plated case filled with slender cigarettes.
Lucas ignored her.
"Aw, take a look, anyway; you paid for it!" she taunted.
Lucas opened a door near the bed and found a bathroom where he pulled a heavy bath towel from a rail and wet it with cold water; he stepped back beside Kincheloe and struck him heavily with the towel first on one side of the head and then upon the other.
"Wake up, you lecherous fool!"
Kincheloe jerked violently and startled awake. "Wha's matter? Stop that; what y'doin', Billie!"
"Cullen's here, Johnnie! That's all!" the girl reassured between puffs at her cigarettes.
"Goo' morning!" Kincheloe now recognized Lucas, who gave him a few moments to further collect himself while Lucas returned to the bathroom and took the door key from the inside and put it in the outside of the lock. Without a word, then, he grabbed the girl by the arm, thrust her into the bathroom and locked the door.
"Look here; what're you doin'?" Kincheloe started up to protest.
Lucas thrust him back in bed. "How much have you told that of yours?"
"Told her?" said Kincheloe in alarm. "Nothin'; why? What does she know?"
"She knew me," Lucas accused.
