is place was close。 I thought you were an addict who had taken an overdose。 But perhaps I was wrong。〃
〃It's a good story。 I couldn't prove it wrong。 But why keep me here？〃
He spread his restless hands。 〃I have told you again and again that you were a very sick man and still are。 What would you expect me to do？〃
〃I must owe you some money then。〃
He shrugged。 〃Naturally。 Two hundred dollars。〃
I pushed my chair back a little。 〃Dirt cheap。 Try and get it。〃
〃If you leave here；〃 he said sharply； 〃you will be arrested at once。〃
I leaned back over the desk and breathed in his face。 〃Not just for going out of here； Karloff。 Open that wall safe。〃
He stood up in a smooth lunge； 〃This has gone quite far enough。〃
〃You won't open it？〃
〃I most certainly will not open it。〃
〃This is a gun I'm holding。〃
He smiled； narrowly and bitterly。
〃It's an awful big safe；〃 I said。 〃New too。 This is a fine gun。 You won't open it？〃
Nothing changed in his face。
〃Damn it；〃 I said。 〃When you have a gun in your hand； people are supposed to do anything you tell them to。 It doesn't work； does it？〃
He smiled。 His smile held a sadistic pleasure。 I was slipping back。 I was going to collapse。
I staggered at the desk and he waited； his lips parted softly。
I stood leaning there for a long moment； staring into his eyes。 Then I grinned。 The smile fell off his face like a soiled rag。 Sweat stood out on his forehead。
〃So long；〃 I said。 〃I leave you to dirtier hands than mine。〃
I backed to the door and opened it and went out。
The front doors were unlocked。 There was a roofed porch。 The garden hummed with flowers。 There was a white picket fence and a gate。 The house was on a corner。 It was a cool； moist night； no moon。
The sign on the corner said Descanso Street。 Houses were lighted down the block。 I listened for sirens。 None came。 The other sign said Twenty…third Street。 I plowed over to Twenty…fifth Street and started towards the eight…hundred block。 No。 819 was Anne Riordan's number。 Sanctuary。
I had walked a long time before I realized that I was still holding the gun in my hand。 And I had heard no sirens。
I kept on walking。 The air did me good； but the whiskey was dying； and it writhed as it died。 The block had fir trees along it； and brick houses； and looked like Capitol Hill in Seattle more than Southern California。
There was a light still in No。 819。 It had a white porte…cochere； very tiny； pressed against a tall cypress hedge。 There were rose bushes in front of the house。 I went up the walk。 I listened before I pushed the bell。 Still no sirens wailing。 The bell chimed and after a little while a voice croaked through one of those electrical contraptions that let you talk with your front door locked。
〃What is it； please？〃
〃Marlowe。〃
Maybe her breath caught； maybe the electrical thing just made that sound being shut off。
The door opened wide and Miss Anne Riordan stood there in a pale green slack suit looking at me。 Her eyes went wide and scared。 Her face under the glare of the porchlight was suddenly pale。
〃My God；〃 she wailed。 〃You look like Hamlet's father！〃
28
The living room had a tan figured rug； white and rose chairs； a black marble fireplace with very tall brass andirons； high bookcases built back into the walls； and rough cream drapes against the lowered venetian blinds。
There was nothing womanish in the room except a full length mirror with a clear sweep of floor in front of it。
I was half…sitting and half…lying in a deep chair with my legs on a footstool。 I had had two cups of black coffee； then I had had a drink； then I had had two soft…boiled eggs and a slice of toast broken into them； then some more black coffee with brandy laced in it。 I had had all this in the breakfast room； but I couldn't remember what it looked like any more。 It was too long ago。
I was in good shape again。 I was almost sober and my stomach was bunting towards third base instead of trying for the centerfield flagpole。
Anne Riordan sat opposite me； leaning forward； her neat chin cupped in her neat hand； her eyes dark and shadowy under the fluffed out reddish…brown hair。 There was a pencil stuck through her hair。 She looked worried。 I had told her some of it； but not all。 Especially about Moose Malloy I had not told her。
〃I thought you were drunk；〃 she said。 〃I thought you had to be drunk before you came to see me。 I thought you had been out with that blonde。 I thought…I don't know what I thought。〃
〃I bet you didn't get all this writing；〃 I said； looking around。 〃Not even if you got paid for what you thought you thought。〃
〃And my dad didn't get it grafting on the cops either；〃 she said。 〃Like that fat slob they have for chief of police nowadays。〃
〃It's none of my business；〃 I said。
She said： 〃We had some lots at Del Rey。 Just sand lots they suckered him for。 And they turned out to be oil lots。〃
I nodded and drank out of the nice crystal glass I was holding。 What was in it had a nice warm taste。
〃A fellow could settle down here；〃 I said。 〃Move right in。 Everything set for him。〃
〃If he was that kind of fellow。 And anybody wanted him to；〃 she said。
〃No butler；〃 I said。 〃That makes it tough。〃
She flushed。 〃But you…you'd rather get your head beaten to a pulp and your arm riddled with dope needles and your chin used for a backboard in a basketball game。 God knows there's enough of it。〃
I didn't say anything。 I was too tired。
〃At least；〃 she said； 〃you had the brains to look in those mouthpieces。 The way you talked over on Aster Drive I thought you had missed the whole thing。〃
〃Those cards don't mean anything。〃
Her eyes snapped at me。 〃You sit there and tell me that after the man had you beaten up by a couple of crooked policemen and thrown in a two…day liquor cure to teach you to mind your own business？ Why the thing stands out so far you could break off a yard of it and still have enough left for a baseball bat。〃
〃I ought to have said that one；〃 I said。 〃Just my style。 Crude。 What sticks out？〃
〃That this elegant psychic person is nothing but a high…class mobster。 He picks the prospects and milks the minds and then tells the rough boys to go out and get the jewels。〃
〃You really think that？〃
She stared at me。 I finished my glass and got my weak look on my face again。 She ignored it。
〃Of course I think it；〃 she said。 〃And so do you。〃
〃I think it's a little more plicated than that。〃
Her smile was cozy and acid at the same time。 〃I beg your pardon。 I forgot for the moment you were a detective。 It would have to be plicated； wouldn't it？ I suppose there's a sort of indecency about a simple case。〃
〃It's more plicated than that；〃 I said。
〃All right。 I'm listening。〃
〃I don't know。 I just think so。 Can I have one more drink？〃
She stood up。 〃You know； you'll have to taste water sometime； just for the hell of it。〃 She came over and took my glass。 〃This is going to be the last。〃 She went out of the room and somewhere ice cubes tinkled and I closed my eyes and listened to the small unimportant sounds。 I had no business ing here。 If they knew as much about me as I suspected； they might e here looking。 That would be a mess。
She came back with the glass and her fingers cold from holding the cold glass touched mine and I held them for a moment and then let them go slowly as you let go of a dream when you wake with the sun in your face and have been in an enchanted valley。
She flushed and went back to her chair and sat down and made a lot of business of arranging herself in it。
She lit a cigarette； watching me drink。
〃Amthor's a pretty ruthless sort of lad；〃 I said。 〃But I don't somehow see him as the brain guy of a jewel mob。 Perhaps I'm wrong。 If he was and he thought I had something on him； I don't think I'd have got out of that dope hospital alive。 But he's a man who has things to fear。 He didn't get really tough until I began to babble about invisible writing。〃
She looked at me evenly。 〃Was there some？〃
I grinned。 〃If there was； I didn't read it。〃
〃That's a funny way to hide nasty remarks about a person； don't you think？ In the mouthpieces of cigarettes。 Suppose they were never found。〃
〃I think the point is that Marriott feared something and that if anything happened to him