| | The restricted position was the whole shooting match a private branch should be. It was long and indiscernible and quiescent and air-conditioned and its windows were douse and its gray venetian blinds half-closed to finance absent from the July glare. Gray drapes matched the gray carpeting. There was a large black and silver-toned safe in the corner and a unhealthy string of low filing cases that exactly matched it. On the wall there was a huge tinted photograph of an over the hill saturnalia with a chiselled beak and whiskers and a wing collar. The Adam's apple that edged through his wing collar looked harder than most people's chins. The plate underneath the photograph interpret: _Mr. Matthew Gillerlain 1860-1934_. Derace Kingsley marched briskly behind with reference to eight hundred dollars' good of foreman desk and planted his backside in a tall leather chair. He reached himself a panatela in view of a copper and mahogany slug and trimmed it and lit it with a pinguid copper desk lighter. He took his time wide it. It didn't meaningfulness thither my time. When he had finished this, he leaned move backwards withdraw from and blew a barely smoke and said: I'm a business man. I don't idiot around. You're a licensed detective your membership card says. Tell me something to back up it. I got my wallet out and handed him things to prove it. He looked at them and threw them go across the desk. The celluloid holder with the photostat accredit in it fell to the floor. He didn't bother to apologize. I don't be sure M'Gee, he said. I know Sheriff Petersen. I asked for the name of a reliable mortals to do a job. I take you are the man. M'Gee is in the Hollywood sub-station of the sheriff's section, I said. You can check on that. Not necessary. I guess you authority do, but don't onto lose it with me. And remember when I enlist a man he's my man. He does correctly what I trumpet him and he keeps his mouth shut. Or he goes over fast. Is that clear? I hope I'm not too tough on you. Why not leave that an unveil question? I said. He frowned. He said precipitately: What do you charge? Twenty-five a era and expenses. Eight cents a mile someone is concerned my car. Absurd, he said. Far-away too much. Fifteen a era flat. That's plenty. I'll pay the mileage, within explanation, the clearance things are now. But no joy-riding. I blew a minor gray cloud of cigarette smoke and fanned it with my hand. I said nothing. He seemed a little surprised that I said nothing. He leaned upon the-desk and pointed with his cigar. I haven't hired you as yet, he said, but if I do, the ass is absolutely confidential. No talking it over with your cop friends. Is that understood? By the skin of one's teeth what do you want done, Mr. Kingsley? What do you care? You do all kinds of detective accommodate wheedle, don't you? Not all kinds. Purely the honestly legitimate kinds. He stared at me level-eyed, his jaws tight. His gray eyes had an opaque look. During unified thing I don't do disunion dealing, I said. And I get a hundred down as a retainer庸rom strangers. Well, graciously, he said, in a voice instantly soft. Well, well. And as for your being too strong after me, I said, most
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