“Did you see anybody that—?”

 

“No, no witnesses,” Spade said and laughed pleasantly. “Sit down, Dundy.

 

You haven’t finished your drink. Get your glass, Tom.”

 

Tom said: “No, thanks, Sam.”

 

Dundy sat down, but paid no attention to his glass of rum.

 

Spade filled his own glass, drank, set the empty glass on the table, and

returned to his bedside-seat.

 

“I know where I stand now,” he said, looking with friendly eyes from one of the

police-detectives to the other. “I’m sorry I got up on my hind legs, but you

birds coming in and trying to put the work on me made me nervous. Having Miles

knocked off bothered me, and then you birds cracking foxy. That’s all right now,

though, now that I know what you’re up to.”

 

Tom said: “Forget it.”

 

The Lieutenant said nothing.

 

Spade asked: “Thursby die?”