He sat on the desk in front of her. FIe said:
"Now we've got to find a new' home for you, haven't we?"
She nodded with emphasis.
"I won't go back there."
He patted the desk beside Imms thighs and made a thoughtful face.
"I think I've got it," he said presently.
"Wait a minute."
He w'ent into the outer office, shutting the door.
Effie Perine reached for the telephone, saying:
"I'll try again."
"Afterwards.
Does your woman's intuition still tell you that she's a madonna or soniething?"
She looked sharply up at him.
"I still believe that no matter what kind of trouble she's gotten into she's all right, if that's w'hat you mean."
"That's what I mean," he said.
"Are you strong enough for her to give her a lift?"
"How?"
"Could you put her up for a few days?"
"You mean at home?"
"Yes.
Her joint's been broken into.
That's the second burglary she's had this week.
It'd be better for her if she wasn't alone.
It would help a lot if you could take her in."
Effie Perine leaned forward, asking earnestly:
"Is she really in danger, Sam?"
"I think she is." She scratched her lip with a fingernail.
"That would scare Ma into a green hemorrhage.
I'll have to tell her she's a surprise-witness or something that you're keeping under cover till the last minute."
"You're a darling," Spade said.
"Better take her out there now.
I'll get her key from her and bring whatever she needs over from her apartment.
Let's see.
You oughtn't to be seen leaving here together.
You go home now.
Take a taxi, but make sure you aren't followed.
You probably won't be, but make sure.
I'll send her out in another in a little while, making sure she isn't followed."
XI.The Fat Man
The telephone-bell was ringing when Spade returned to his office after sending Brigid O'Shaughnessy off to Effie Perine's house.
He went to the telephone.
"Hello Yes, this is Spade. . . .
Yes, I got it.
I've been waiting to hear from you. . . .
Who? . . .
Mr. Gutman?
Oh, yes, sure! . . .
Now—the sooner the better. . . .
Twelve C. . . .
Right.