“No other family?” Randolph persisted. “Father? Mother?”

“My parents died years ago.”

“Brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“Ex-husbands?”

“No. Excuse me,” she said with sudden determination, “I've got some urgent business to attend to.”

She jumped up, hurried over to the young man, just getting there ahead of the dark-haired waitress, and planted a firm kiss on his mouth. “Push off,” she told Brenda. “Find your own feller.”

“You can talk.” Brenda addressed herself to Mike.

“She's been all over that bloke behind the palm. Can't see his face but his clothes are posh.”

“Eee, Dot,” Mike said, awed, “have you got a rich admirer?”

“Could be,” Dottie agreed.

“He's been asking her all sorts of personal stuff,” Brenda went on. “Like, has she got any family?”

“What's he want to do that for?” Mike asked, puzzled.

“White slavery,” Brenda said dramatically.

Dottie stared. “You what?”

“He's the front man, luring innocent girls into his net, then selling them on,” Brenda said with relish. “He's probably stocking a harem. He's asking all those questions because he wants to know if anyone will be looking for you.”

“Then why isn't he asking you questions?” Dottie wanted to know.

“There's a better market in blondes. He's probably got your purchaser already lined up.”

Mike was impressed. “Hey, Dot, do you think he'd give me two camels for you?”

“You cheeky blighter!” she said indignantly. “What do you mean, two? Three, or you're dead.”

“Well, tell him I'm open to offers. Three camels would just about pay the deposit on that garage.”

This sent Dottie into gales of laughter. Still shaking she made her way unsteadily back to Randolph's table, and collapsed into her seat.

“What's so funny?” Randolph demanded, fascinated. He'd only caught odd scraps of the conversation.