7
ISLES lay back in his bath; drew placidly on his cigarette; he thought it was a good thing to give a woman her head, especially a woman like Thelma Lyon.
The tropical Miami sun came through the cracks of the screen window; formed amusing arabesques on the walls and on the ceiling. Isles flicked the cigarette ash over the edge of the bath on to the floor and wondered how long this quiescent period would continue. But life was amusing. Isles remembered that not so very long ago he had been in England and broke. Now he was in Miami, well housed, well fed, with money in his pocket. He was doing the best he could for Johnny Vallon, even if it wasn't very much of a best. But that wasn't his fault. He had no doubt that in time Thelma would talk.
He wondered just what she would have to say an
