tall. The steep rounded slope of his shoulders made his body seem almost comical -
no broader than it was thick - and kept his freshly pressed grey coat from fitting very
well. Miss Wonderly murmured, "Thank you," softly as before and sat down on the
edge of the chair's wooden seat.
Spade sank into his swivel-chair, made a quarter-turn to face her, smiled politely. He
smiled without separating his lips. All the v's in his face grew longer. The tappity-tap-
tap and the thin bell and muffled whir of Effie Perine's typewriting came through the
closed door. Somewhere in a neighboring office a power-driven machine vibrated
dully. On Spade's desk a limp cigarette smoldered in a brass tray filled with the
remains of limp cigarettes. Ragged grey flakes of cigarette-ash dotted the yellow top
of the desk and the green blotter and the papers that were there. A buff-curtained
window, eight or ten inches open, let in from the court a current of air faintly scented
with ammonia. The ashes on the desk twitched and crawled in the current.
Miss Wonderly watched the grey flakes twitch and crawl. Her eyes were uneasy. She
sat on the very edge of the chair. Her feet were flat on the floor, as if she were about
to rise. Her hands in dark gloves clasped a flat dark handbag in her lap. Spade rocked
back in his chair and asked: "Now what can I do for you, Miss Wonderly?"
She caught her breath and looked at him. She swallowed and said hurriedly: "Could
you - ? I thought - I - that is -" Then she tortured her lower lip with glistening teeth
and said nothing. Only her dark eyes spoke now, pleading.
Spade smiled and nodded as if he understood her, but pleasantly, as if nothing
serious
were involved. He said: "Suppose you tell me about it, from the beginning, and then
we'll know what needs doing. Better begin as far back as you can."
"That was in New York."
"Yes."
"I don't know where she met him. I mean I don't know where in New York. She's five
years younger than I - only seventeen - and we didn't have the same friends. I don't
suppose we've ever been as close as sisters should be. Mama and Papa are in Europe.
It would kill them. I've got to get her back before they come home."
"Yes," he said.
"They're coming home the first of the month."
Spade's eyes brightened. "Then we've two weeks," he said.
"I didn't know what she had done until her letter came. I was frantic." Her lips
trembled. Her hands mashed the dark handbag in her lap. "I was too afraid she had
done something like this to go to the police, and the fear that something had
