Page:Levenson - Butterfly Man.djvu/189

Rh "I gotta find that purse," she spoke almost apologetically. Then anger pitched her voice high; 'Til put all the damn fairies in jail."

At ten o'clock that morning, Ken Gracey, wondering if he were not dreaming, stepped from the detention pen to a place before the desk of the municipal court clerk. Annie Begley greeted him with a broad grin.

"I paid your fine," she chuckled. "They sure were ready to hang you. What kind of yeggs did you have in your room last night?" The old comedienne slipped an arm around Ken's waist, "Still lit?" she asked.

"I need coffee and ham and eggs," he said.

"And a night's sleep."

"Nonsense, I'll be fresh tonight."

"As a corpse."

"What happened to the others?"

"They'll have to get out as best they can. The judge wined and lobstered me when I was a chorus girl in 'The Belle of New York.' That's how I got you out. I'm not going to pay fines for all the c. s's in show business!"

The clerk handed Ken a receipt. "A jail bird at last," he laughed. "Come on—let's breathe the air of freedom."

"You may laugh—but it could have been serious. Who stole the dinge's purse?"

"How much was in it?" Ken asked.

"Her money for the week."

"And the fine?"

"Ten dollars for disorderly conduct."

"I'll give you a check for fifty dollars, Annie. You give Mitzi forty—"

"But don't you want to find the thief?"