Really a road house.

But you'll find a telephone." Kenny found the telephone at Rink's Hotel in a pantry near the barroom and closed the door to insure his privacy.

It seemed an interminable interval of waiting, an interval of blankness filled with voices calling numbers on to further voices, before the Club Central answered.
Again he waited, tapping with impatience on the table.

When the voice came he wanted, it was far away and drowsy.

Kenny looked at his watch.
It was not yet eight o'clock.
"Garry," he said, "is that you ?" "Yes.