Thrusting aside all thought of his own precarious situation, Pete began
a brisk conversation with his supposed companion. "How does your head
feel?" he queried, leaning forward and addressing the empty bed. He
nodded as if concurring in the answer.
Then, "Uh-huh! Well, you look it, all right!"
"You don't want no breakfast? Well, I done had mine."
....................
"What's the time? 'Bout ten. Goin' to git up?"
....................
Pete gestured as he described an imaginative incident relative to his
supposed companion's behavior the preceding night. "Some folks been
here askin' for you." Pete shook his head as though he had been asked
who the callers were. He had turned sideways to the open window to
carry on this pantomimic dialogue. He glanced at the restaurant across
the street. The heavy-shouldered man had disappeared. Pete heard a
faint shuffling sound in the hall outside. Before he could turn the
door crashed inward. He leapt to his feet. With the leap his hand
flashed to his side. Unaccustomed to a coat, his thumb caught in the
pocket just as the man who had shouldered the flimsy door down, reeled
and sprawled on the floor.
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