The black-clad stranger to Oceanville was paid not the slightest attention when he went inside to get his gear. When he re-emerged, the Mexican woman was shuffling back home, the hem of her dress held up to retain the broken glass and her head averted so that she did not look at him. Joe and Vic came out of the house as he started up the steps and they leered at him as they stood to either side, to usher him inside with mocking gestures. ‘What does making the old man comfortable mean?’ Gold asked. ‘It means he’s been took care of in the third best room in the house, stud,’ the bearded man answered. ‘Who by?’ ‘Couple of Mex whores who make the cantina tail look like somethin’ that’s been stampeded over, stud,’ the scar-faced man told him. ‘Right, Vic?’ ‘Sure, Joe. But we can wait, can’t we?’ They went to either side of Gold and down the steps. ‘Don’t reckon we’ll have to wait long for that well-stacked Emily?’ the bearded Vic said conversationally.
