sometime,” he replied with derisive mildness.

 

“And this is yours.”

 

Spade smiled and shook his head. “No, I’ll do nicely, thank you.” He stopped

smiling. His upper lip, on the left side, twitched over his eyetooth. His eyes

became narrow and sultry. His voice came out deep as the Lieutenant’s. “I don’t

like this. What are you sucking around for?

 

Tell me, or get out and let me go to bed.”

 

“Who’s Thursby?” Dundy demanded.

 

“I told Tom what I knew about him.”

 

“You told Tom damned little.”

 

“I knew damned little.”

 

“Why were you tailing him?”

 

“I wasn’t. Miles was—for the swell reason that we had a client who was paying

good United States money to have him tailed.”

 

“Who’s the client?”