3: Friday: The Ticket
CALLAGHAN, standing on the low, gilt and red balcony that ran round three sides of the Yellow Lamp, felt in his jacket pocket for a loose cigarette, lit it, stood watching the dancers. He was busy coughing when Perruqui, sauve, plump and immaculate, came over to him.
'Too mooch smoke, Meester Callaghan,' he said. 'You still got the smoker's t'roat, eh?'
Callaghan nodded.
'One of these days I'm goin' to give up smokin',' he said. 'How's Juanita?'
'She's fine,' said Perruqui. 'She make a beeg success. She's got a new number tonight. And she's been asking for you, Meester Callaghan.'
Callaghan walked round the balcony, through the pass-door on the right, along a passage. He tapped on a door. Somebody said, 'Come in.' He went into the dressing-room.
Juanita, alread
