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you could give me a line on him yourself?”
     “I?” She was surprised. I told myself I'd drawn blank here. “But why should I give you any information? What information?”
     I shook my head. “No, I guess I was wrong. Okay, forget it, will you?”
     Her chin tilted. “No, I will not forget it,” she said. “What makes you think I could have told you anything?”
     I saw she was getting a little fussed. I didn't want to fall out with this baby... I liked her too much. I'd got to be careful, for all that. After all, she was Spencer's secretary. I shook my head. “I'm sorry to have brought it up,” I said, “I was just bein' too smart. You're right. A girl like you wouldn't know anything about it.... I guess I owe you an apology.”
     She smiled. A little, determined smile. “That still doesn't answer my question, does it?” she said.
     I grinned back at her. “Don't put me in a spot, sister,” I said. “I thought maybe I was going to get somewhere if I jumped it on you, but I see I was backin' the wrong gee. I'd tell you all about it if I could, but for the moment I've got to keep this under my hat. Suppose you tell me how I can get in to see Spencer?”
     The Swiss steak did a lot to break up the hostile atmosphere, but she wasn't going to let me get away with it as easily as that.
     She looked at me pretty straight. “You know, Mr. Mason, I don't like this at all. You said you wanted to talk business. My business is to do with Fabrics. Then you start some story about a wretched gunman instead. Is this a cheap joke?”
     I found I was getting flustered. This certainly was something new to me.
     I said feebly, “This ain't a joke. I'm dead serious, but I'm in a spot....”
     She pushed back her chair. “In that case, Mr. Mason,” she said coldly, “I don't think we need waste any more time.”
     Another dame would have got herself smacked, but this baby had me jumping through hoops. I said urgently, “Don't go, don't walk out on me... I'll come clean on this.”
     She shook her head. “No... I think I'd better go.” But she made no move. Maybe she was the cutest of them all, but she was woman enough to be curious. I took a look over my shoulder to see how close the next table was, satisfied myself that no one could hear me, and dived right into the story. I gave it to her from the first gong to the last.
     She sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes wide, her lips parted. I gave her the story with everything I had, and I held her to the last word. Sitting there, I thought she looked swell.
     “Apart from the ten grand,” I concluded, “this frame-up interests me. It would make a swell story, and I always like to think the right guy gets the right punishment.”
     She said, in barely a whisper, “But... but... Mr. Spencer... no, I can't believe that....”
     I shrugged. “I've never met the guy. At the same time, why the hell does he have a gunman? Why should a guy in Fabrics be mixed up with a thug like Katz?”
     I saw her suddenly give a little shiver. “You know a little more about this than you're lettin' me think. Ain't that right?”
     She hesitated. Then she shook her head. “I can't help you.... I'm his personal secretary.... You see that, don't you?”
     I scratched my jaw. “Yeah, I guess so,” I said doubtfully. “At the same time, baby, you gotta remember that this is a murder rap, and accessories don't get much pity.”
     She went a little white when I said this, but she again shook her head. “No, not now,” she said firmly.
     “Okay,” I said. “Maybe later.”
     The Greek brought the coffee and I gave her a cigarette. We sat there in silence, smoking. I wasn't sure where I was going from here. I had hoped that something would have broken, but it seemed as tight shut as before.
     “I