Explore "Blackmailers don't Shoot" by Raymond Chandler on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A window or two in the front of the apartment house showed light. Mallory held his wrist up and looked at the curved watch on the inside of it. The faintly glowing hands were at half-past three. He spoke back into the car:
"Give me ten minutes or so. Then come on up. I'll fix the doors."