your pick," he said. "That's not what a good host should do, ask
the guest to pick one, like a game; but I got into the habit. People
get nervous about arsenic in the drinks. Which is silly."

"Sure it is," Malone agreed. He picked up the left-hand glass and
regarded it carefully. "If you wanted to kill me, you'd need a motive
and an opportunity, and you don't have either at the moment. Besides,
you'd make sure to be far away when it happened." He hoped he sounded
confident. He took a sip of the drink, but it tasted like bourbon and
soda.

"Mr. Malone," Manelli said, "you say these things about me, and it
hurts. It hurts me, right here." He pressed a hand over the checkbook
side of his jacket. "I'm a legitimate businessman, and no different
from any other legitimate businessman. You can't prove anything else."

"I know I can't," Malone said. "But I want to talk to you about your
real business."

"This is my real business," Manelli said. "The advertising agency. I
work here. Advertising is in my blood. And I don't understand the
least little bit why you have to do things to me all the time."

"Do things?" Malone said. "What did I do?"

"Now, Mr. Malone," Manelli said. He took a swallow of his drink. "You
said let's be frank, so I'm frank. Why not you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Malone said, telling part of
the truth.

Manelli took another swallow of his drink, fished in a jacket pocket
and brought out two cigars. "Smoke, Mr. Malone?" he said. "The very
best, from Havana, Cuba. Cost me a dollar and a half each."

Malone looked with longing at the cigar. But it was okay for Manelli
to smoke cigars, he thought bitterly. Manelli was a gangster, and who
cared how he looked? Malone was an FBI man, and FBI men didn't smoke
cigars. Particularly Havana cigars. That, he told himself with
regretful firmness, was that.

"No, thanks," he said. "I never smoke on duty."

Manelli shrugged and put one cigar away. He lit the other one and
dense clouds of smoke began to rise in the room. Malone breathed
deeply.

"I understand you've been having troubles," he said.

Manelli nodded. "Now, you see, Mr. Malone?" he said. "You tell me you
don't know what's happening, but you know I got troubles. How come,
Mr. Malone? How come?"

"Because you have got troubles," Malone said. "But I have nothing to
do with them." He hesitated, thought of adding: "Yet," and decided
against it.

"Now, Mr. Malone," Manelli said.