Рауль Уитфилд - Sinners' Paradise

“’Sinners’ Paradise’,” Pinky returned, laughing. Now that the way was clear, she felt vastly pleased.

“’Sinners’ Paradise’,” Tiny mimicked. “I do hope there’s lots of little sinners at Romany Inn tonight!”

“Me too,” Pinky agreed. “It may be our last chance to sin with the rest of the bunch!”

Delatante helped Helene back into Tiny’s closed car. They had just arrived at Charlie’s place, and had picked up Lou Fenway and Del. Charlie was shoving off later, and they did not see him.

Everything had gone splendidly. Koti had definite instructions. Pinky had driven her machine over to Tiny’s at seven, taking a small bag containing her costume. She would spend the night with Tiny, of course.

Both Pinky and Tiny were already masked. Their fur coats hid the costumes beneath. Delatante was attired as a devil. Lou as a slender and quite ferocious cannibal.

He jerked the machine into action, with Tiny sitting close beside him. Delatante produced a flask from his overcoat pocket, and at the same time a sinister object flashed to the car’s floor-rug.

“Del!” Pinky saw that it was a revolver, but Delatante quickly stuck it back in his pocket and resumed the process of unscrewing the top.

“No use taking any chances,” he whispered to Pinky. “There’s been quite a few hold-ups around here lately, and I usually carry it with me.”

Helene nodded. After all, there was no harm in Del’s having a gun. Neither Tiny nor she was wearing any jewels, but there had been several motor hold-ups in the vicinity of the neck of land on which were scattered many road houses.

“What’s Tiny supposed to be?” Del questioned, steadying himself as he poured the liquor into the unscrewed cup-cover. “I know you’re a pirate bold; she told me.”

“Bold is right,” Pinky returned. “And remember, Del-you must never breathe a word of this to anybody.”

“Not a word, Pinky,” Delatante replied. He looked quite handsome in his diabolical make-up. “Again what is Tiny supposed to be?”

“A nymph,” Pinky returned, smiling. “And a summer, warm-weather nymph, at that.”

“Not so much in the way of costume, eh?” Del grinned, and handed her the cup-top of the flask. “Just a starter. Pinky. Jimmy’s the one who is supposed to have the real stuff.”

Pinky swallowed the contents, made a face and laughed. And then she made another face.

“As bad as that?” Del questioned. He poured out another drink for Tiny, who was pretending to howl for it.

“Worse,” replied Pinky, but she shook her head. “No, I guess it’s not bad,” she told him. “I’m not a drinker, you know-and I can’t get used to it.”

“You don’t want to get used to it,” Delatante stated seriously, as he handed the cup to Tiny. “When you get used to it there’s not so much fun. I’m used to it, and I don’t get half the kick I got in the old days.”

There was a general laugh. Tiny drank, made no comment, and Del poured out a brinker for the driver. Lou was in great humour.

He drank with practice and ease, and then half turned his head towards Pinky.

“Say,” he demanded, “didn’t I meet you in St Louis?”

There was a groan at this, but ancient as Pinky knew the thing was going to be, she went through with her part.

“Not I,” she replied seriously. “I’ve never been in St Louis.”

“That’s right,” Lou shot back. “Neither have I. It must have been two other-“ A chorus of groans drowned his anticipated ending.

“That’s as old as Jimmy says his liquor is guaranteed to be,” Del remarked, getting down the last drink of the first round.

“Listen,” Tiny stated slowly. “This is going to be Pinky’s and my last party for a while. We don’t want it to drag, but you two must stay sober. We’ve got to leave before the unmasking. Remember!”

“Can’t we get under the weather a bit-and then sober up in time?” Lou pleaded in such a serious, grieved voice that Tiny relented.

“It’s all right-if you sober up in time,” she stated. “You’re taking a chance, too. If our husbands learn about our being at the Romany, they’ll probably start after both of you. So it’s up to you to protect yourselves.”

“We leave at quarter of two-and, we leave sober!” Delatante spoke convincingly. “I’m not anxious to be shot at by angry husbands.”

Pinky laughed. The machine was streaking over the Long Island road, but it rode smoothly. Del commenced to pour the second round.

A cluster of lights flashed behind, as Pinky lifted her voice in song.

“Scarabin’s,” Lou shouted. “We’re on the Neck now. Fifteen minutes and we’ll be at the Romany.”

“For I’m a pirate bo…ld, so bo…ld!” Pinky was feeling fine, her red lips parted. The mask over the upper portion of her face made her more alluring than ever. The others joined in the chorus. They sped on, bound for Romany Inn, and Jimmy Weare’s party. Both Tiny and Pinky had forgotten their husbands. Why not? It was to be their farewell party.

A yellow spotlight streaked down upon the long, narrow dance floor of the Romany Inn. The dance floor was crowded; costumes were striking, gorgeous in colour and line. The spotlight became purple. Music from the Southern orchestra flared out from the raised platform at one end. Dancers swayed to it, bent with it, jerked with it.

Pinky, held tightly in the arms of Delatante, was enjoying herself hugely. Del was a magnificent dancer, and the music was wonderful. She felt herself gripped by the spirit of the carnival, the spirit of jazz music-and adventure.

“’Lo, Jimmy!” Del called out, as a short, stocky figure danced close to them. There was no possibility of Jimmy Weare disguising himself. His friends were many, and in spite of his depressing, gloom-costume of the much-caricatured curfew maker, he was hailed from all sides. His mask was no mask for Jimmy.

He waved back. “Who is she?” he howled in his deep voice, making no attempt to disguise it.

Del shook his head, and Pinky smiled. She did not travel, had not travelled, in spite of what her husband thought, so much with Jimmy Weare’s set. They could not penetrate her disguise. She was slim and of medium height, and there were many other women of similar build on the dance floor.

And yet she was having all the fun she could desire. Twisting her head, she caught a glimpse of Tiny, dancing with Lou. Tiny was having a great old time, and her costume was one of the sensations of the party.

“Feel lively enough?” Del spoke a bit thickly, but he was able to dance in his excellent manner.

“I feel like what I’m made up to be-a pirate,” Pinky returned.

“You’ve already stolen my heart-and made my conscience walk the plank,” Del returned, laughing.

“Oh, Del-not that!” Pinky rolled her eyes roguishly.

Delatante groaned. “Not that,” he muttered. “Don’t look at me that way, Pinky. I feel as though I want to rip that mask from your face and kiss you on those laughing lips of yours.”

“Don’t!” she warned. “That would give the whole thing away.”

“I know.” He grinned at her. “I was simply telling you how I felt. By the way, you’ve the next dance with Haverstraw. He fell in love with your costume and persuaded me into giving you up for a whole dance.”

The music crashed into a dynamic finale. It was the third encore of the piece, and the dancers walked slowly from the floor.

“Haverstraw?” Pinky repeated the name. “Isn’t he the man who has just figured in the papers in the Denton shooting?”

“The same and only gentleman,” Del replied suavely. “He’s nice, though, and you are only dancing with him, you know.”