“I’ll see you in hell first.”

“Oh, Susan! Language!”

“I am clearing out of here. I’ve had enough of you all. I’ll send for my box tomorrow.” She flounced for the door.

“Goodbye, Susan. Paregoric is the stuff.⁠ ⁠… Now,” he continued, turning suddenly from lively to severe when the door had closed behind the flushed and angry woman, “this gang means business. Look how close they play the game. Your letter to me had the 10 p.m. postmark. And yet Susan passes the word to Barney. Barney has time to go to his employer and get instructions; he or she⁠—I incline to the latter from Susan’s grin when she thought I had blundered⁠—forms a plan. Black Steve is called in, and I am warned off by eleven o’clock next morning. That’s quick work, you know.”

“But what do they want?”