Jim Hanvey whistled in protest as he counted out one wrinkled dollar
bill, a quarter, a dime and a nickel. Then as he waddled into the
Hanover he shook his head slowly. "Dollar forty! Holy smokes! An' I
thought I knew every professional crook in America."
He walked uncertainly through the cheaply magnificent lobby. The ebony
lad at the switchboard eyed him insolently. Jim paused, toying with a
gold toothpick which hung suspended from a watchchain of hawserlike
proportions.
"Mr. Arthur Sherwood in?"
"Yeh. Who wants to see him?"