“How d’ya make out?”
It was the next evening and Ernie Cureo’s cab was rolling slowly along the Strip towards downtown Las Vegas. Bond had got tired of waiting for something to happen, and he had called up the Pinkerton man and suggested they get together for a talk.
“Not bad,” said Bond. “Took some money off them at roulette, but I don’t suppose that’ll worry our friend. They tell me he’s got plenty to spare.”
Ernie Cureo snorted. “I’ll say,” he said. “That guy’s so loaded with the stuff he don’t need to wear spectacles when he’s out driving. Has the windshields of his Cadillacs ground to his eye-doctor’s prescription.”
Bond laughed. “What’s he spend it on besides that?” he asked.
“He’s daft,” said the driver. “He’s crazy about the Old West. Bought himself a whole ghost town way out
