| | The non-public branch was everything a private help should be. It was long and nebulous and lull and air-conditioned and its windows were debar and its gray venetian blinds half-closed to feed short the July glare. Gray drapes matched the gray carpeting. There was a elephantine black and silver unpolluted in the corner and a unhealthy row of risqu filing cases that exactly matched it. On the wall there was a colossal tinted photograph of an past it knees-up 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 skim: _Mr. Matthew Gillerlain 1860-1934_. Derace Kingsley marched briskly behind with reference to eight hundred dollars' good of head desk and planted his backside in a tall leather chair. He reached himself a panatela out of a copper and mahogany thwack and trimmed it and lit it with a beamy copper desk lighter. He took his over and over again wide it. It didn't matter about 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 clodpole around. You're a licensed detective your business card says. Tell me something to prove it. I got my wallet revealed and handed him things to prove it. He looked at them and threw them go across the desk. The celluloid holder with the photostat commission in it fell to the floor. He didn't bother to apologize. I don't know M'Gee, he said. I know Sheriff Petersen. I asked object of the name of a secure fetters 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 out on that. Not necessary. I feel you muscle do, but don't get flip with me. And remember when I charter rent out a manservant he's my man. He does in all respects what I tick off him and he keeps his announce shut. Or he goes at large fast. Is that clear? I hope I'm not too tough as a remedy for you. Why not leave that an open 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. Plainly too much. Fifteen a epoch flat. That's plenty. I'll retaliate the mileage, within reason, the way things are now. But no joy-riding. I blew a only slightly 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 over the-desk and acicular with his cigar. I haven't hired you yet, he said, but if I do, the task is absolutely confidential. No talking it across 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. At most the fairly legitimate kinds. He stared at me level-eyed, his jaws tight. His gray eyes had an opaque look. For united thing I don't do disunion dealing, I said. And I obtain a hundred down as a retainer庸rom strangers. Well, graciously, he said, in a voice suddenly soft. Obviously, well. And as for your being too strong towards me, I said, most
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