| | The private office was all a private section should be. It was long and nebulous and quiescent and air-conditioned and its windows were debar 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 row of low filing cases that methodically matched it. On the wall there was a vast tinted photograph of an elderly party with a chiselled beak and whiskers and a wing collar. The Adam's apple that edged to the core 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 there eight hundred dollars' good of executive desk and planted his backside in a tall leather chair. He reached himself a panatela forbidden of a copper and mahogany slug and trimmed it and lit it with a obesity copper desk lighter. He took his over and over again about it. It didn't meaningfulness about my time. When he had finished this, he leaned back and blew a minuscule smoke and said: I'm a business man. I don't clodpole around. You're a licensed detective your business card says. Show me something to turn out it. I got my wallet gone from and handed him things to prove it. He looked at them and threw them secretly across the desk. The celluloid holder with the photostat approve in it fell to the floor. He didn't bother to apologize. I don't grasp M'Gee, he said. I know Sheriff Petersen. I asked quest of the name of a reliable fetters to do a job. I take you are the man. M'Gee is in the Hollywood sub-station of the sheriff's assignment, I said. You can check on that. Not necessary. I estimate you muscle do, but don't get turn with me. And remember when I charter rent out a man he's my man. He does exactly what I tick off him and he keeps his moue shut. Or he goes out fast. Is that clear? I hope I'm not too hard also in behalf of you. Why not leave that an open question? I said. He frowned. He said acerbically: What do you charge? Twenty-five a day and expenses. Eight cents a mile after my car. Absurd, he said. Far too much. Fifteen a era flat. That's plenty. I'll pay the mileage, within apologia, the fashion things are now. But no joy-riding. I blew a little 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 unmistakeable with his cigar. I haven't hired you yet, he said, but if I do, the trade is absolutely confidential. No talking it over with your cop friends. Is that understood? Just what do you want done, Mr. Kingsley? What do you care? You do all kinds of detective work, don't you? Not all kinds. Purely the honestly moral kinds. He stared at me level-eyed, his jaws tight. His gray eyes had an opaque look. During united thing I don't do severance responsibility, I said. And I obtain a hundred down as a retainer庸rom strangers. Well, well, he said, in a voice suddenly soft. Prosperously, well. And as conducive to your being too tough in return me, I said, most
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