His companion chuckled. "Isn't it? I've always said vice was narrow. The
next time I see Aunt Emma I'm going to say: 'Emma, vice is becoming too
narrow in its scope.' She'll be furious and it will bring her to an
early demise and I'll inherit a lot more money, and that will be the
real tragedy. She's a useless old fool, Aunt Emma. Never did a valuable
thing in her life. Goes in for charity--just like we go in for golf and
what-not. Oh, well, to hell with Aunt Emma."
Hugo banged his glass on the table. "_Garçon! Encore deux whiskey à
l'eau_ and to hell with Aunt Emma."
"Like to play roulette?"
"Like to try."
They climbed into a taxi. Shayne gave an address and they were driven to
another quarter of the town. In a room packed with people in evening
clothes they played for an hour. Several people spoke to Shayne and he
introduced Hugo to them. Shayne won and Hugo lost. They went out into
the night. The streets were quieter in that part of town. Two girls
accosted them.
"That gives me an idea," Shayne said. "Let's find a phone. Maybe we can
get Marcelle and Claudine."
Marcelle and Claudine met them at the door of the old house. Their arms
were laden with champagne bottles. The interior of the dwelling belied
its cold, grey, ancient stones. Hugo did not remember much of what
followed that evening. Short, unrelated fragments stuck in his
mind--Shayne chasing the white form of Marcelle up and down the stairs;
himself in a huge bath-tub washing a back in front of him, his surprise
when he saw daylight through the wooden shutters of the house.