"Miss Vera will be down in a minute," he said. "If you want your
hand read," he added, pointing, "you sit over there."
As Winthrop approached the centre table, Mannie backed against
the piano. The presence of the District Attorney at such short
range aroused in him many emotions. Alternately he was torn with
alarm, with admiration, with curiosity. He regarded him
apprehensively, with a nervous and unhappy smile.
About the smile there was something that Winthrop found
familiar, and, with one almost as attractive, he answered it.
"I think we've met before, haven't we?" he asked pleasantly.
Mannie nodded. "Yes, sir," he answered promptly. "At Sam
Hepner's old place, on West Forty-fourth street."
"Why, of course!" exclaimed the District Attorney.
"Don't you -- don't you remember?" stammered Mannie eagerly. He
was deeply concerned lest the distinguished cross-examiner
should think, that from him of his lurid past he could withhold
anything. "I had my coat off -- and you said you'd make it hot
for me."
"Did I?" asked Winthrop with an effort at recollection.
"No, you didn't!" Mannie hastened to reassure him. "I mean, you
didn't make it hot for me."
Winthrop laughed, and seated himself comfortably beside the
centre table. Well I'm glad of that," he said. "So our relations
are still pleasant, then?" he asked.
"Sure!" exclaimed Mannie heartily. "I mean -- yes, sir."
Winthrop mechanically reached for his cigarette case, and then,
recollecting, withdrew his hand.
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