The Going Down of the Sun
“Though the Glasgow shops were tempting, I had suddenly gone off the idea of sampling this city’s night-life. It seemed to have dark places enough in the daytime.
And waiting outside the hotel, taking up more space than two taxis but impressing the hell out of the guests, was a big dark car with tinted windows and a uniformed chauffeur. As I approached, the front passenger seat opened and the slick little item in the pin-striped suit got out and casually, carefully, barred my way.
“Sonny,” I said heavily, “I am getting a little tired of tripping over you.”
He looked surprised at that and a little put out. I think he thought he was a whole lot more alarming than he actually was. I could almost see him shrug the cloak of menace up under his chin. “Mr. McAllister’s unhappy about the company you’re keeping,” he said.
The sheer impudence of it so astounded me that I let the moment for tearing his head off and kicking it across the street come and go.
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