looked with brooding eyes at his dead partner’s desk.

 

* * * * *

 

Effie Perine opened the door and came in. Her brown eyes were uneasy.

 

Her voice was careless. She asked: “Well?”

 

Spade said nothing. His brooding gaze did not move from his partner’s desk.

 

The girl frowned and came around to his side. “Well,” she asked in a louder

voice, “how did you and the widow make out?”

 

“She thinks I shot Miles,” he said. Only his lips moved.

 

“So you could marry her?”

 

Spade made no reply to that.

 

The girl took his hat from his head and put it on the desk. Then she leaned over

and took the tobacco-sack and the papers from his inert fingers.

 

“The police think I shot Thursby,” he said.