CHAPTER EIGHT
Sleep for an ActressThe procession came to a stop, and a short, stout man alighted from the sedan. He waddled across the intervening space, while his companion, aided by the driver of the hearse, began to unload cases from the back of the car.
“Stole a march on us, did you, Mitchell?” The stout man came up, and glanced about him at the assembled company. “Where’s the manager of this aggregation, and where’s the body?”
Mitchell did not reply; Gamadge, after a look at him, decided that he actually couldn’t, his rage and astonishment were too great. Callaghan said:
“Over there in the last trailer.”
“You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” Mitchell regarded him with cold fury.
“I haven’t had a chance to mention it. I sent one of the boys up to Tucon with a message for th
