Crazy Radio eBooks

But this pursuit, from one drinking bar to another, of the only man who
could tell him where she was, was bringing the old feeling back in
waves.
"Here we are," said Jimmy, as they entered the third place. It was a
cramped cluttered room, thick with highly varnished, carved woodwork and
upholstered leather. Its principal ornament was a nude Bouguereau in a
red-draped alcove, heavily overlighted and fearfully framed; the sort of
picture any one would have yawned at in a gallery, it acquired here,
from the hard-working indecency of its intent, a weak salaciousness.
Rodney found himself being led up to a group in the far corner of the
bar, and guessed rightly that the young man with the high voice and the
seemingly permanent smile, who greeted Jimmy with a determined
facetiousness, "Hello, old Top! Drunk again?" was the man they sought.
"Not yet," said Jimmy, "but I'm willing to help you along. What'll it
be?" Then to Rodney: "This is Mr. Alexander McEwen, the leading liar
among our local press agents.


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