I’ve forgotten.”

 

Tom grunted disgust. Lieutenant Dundy said: “He was shot four times in the back,

with a forty-four or forty-five, from across the street, when he started to go

in the hotel. Nobody saw it, but that’s the way it figures.”

 

“And he was wearing a Luger in a shoulder-holster,” Tom added. “It hadn’t been

fired.”

 

“What do the hotel-people know about him?” Spade asked.

 

“Nothing except that he’d been there a week.”

 

“Alone?”

 

“Alone.”

 

“What did you find on him? or in his room?”

 

Dundy drew his lips in and asked: “What’d you think we’d find?”

 

Spade made a careless circle with his limp cigarette. “Something to tell you who

he was, what his story was. Did you?”