The girl called out: “Hello, Ed— hello, Tom. Come on in.”
I forced a grin. “Sure,” I said. “Come on in— it’s good to see you.”
One man was short, with a thin face. The other was medium in size. They both had dark hair and dark eyes. They walked past me— both of them kept both hands in their pockets. They smiled at the girl, but neither spoke.
I closed the door, but I didn’t lock it. When I turned around, Phil Dobe was standing near a window, his right hand out of sight. He was smiling at the shorter of the two men.
The girl remained seated. She said: “Mr. Grace and Mr. Anderson— meet Mr. Ourney and Mr. Dobe. Mr. Dobe is city editor of the Post-Dispatch. Mr. Ourney is just visiting in Pittsburgh.”
The two men nodded their heads. They looked bored. I didn’t care much for the expressions
