"Conrad, I hardly know where to begin, but I saw Al again today, the fellow who first warned me about Flanagan and you. It seems that the police and the newspaper have some incriminating evidence about our relationship, the fact that I have been giving the money you give to me to Frankie and they plan to make a start on the case right there. I've never been in a situation like this before and I'm not sure what I should do or what I should say." Her voice was shaking from nervousness, and becoming slightly thick from the affect of the martinis.

"Well, that does present a new picture, doesn't it," he said, sliding his arm around the back of the chair.

"You know," she continued, "that you are the only other man besides Frankie that I see, but the way the police will make it look won't be good. I'm sure you don't want that kind of exposure."

"You're quite right, my dear," he said, leering down the front of her dress and taking in the full-blown curve of her breasts.

"Al told me that the police plan on getting to Frankie through me and to you through Frankie. You know that I would never rat on Frankie and that he would never say anything about you, but they do have ways of finding out things and I'm scared."

"It isn't the most pleasant situation in the world, I know," he said, speaking softly, "but prostitution is the oldest profession in the world and John Law does frown upon women making their living that way." He laughed weakly, hoping that he could make her feel more at ease, but his own mind was going a million miles a minute. He couldn't afford to be the only one to be known as her paramour, especially since he was paying for it. His image would be shattered, to say nothing of what they could do to him legally if Frankie ever talked to save his own neck.

"I'll see what I can do, sweetheart," he said, trying to console her, but realizing that the alcohol was dulling her senses and perhaps she wasn't hearing a word he was saying.