"Come on." he said. "This will put you in solid with your boss."
They went to Gutman's door and Spade knocked.
XIII.The Emperor's Gift
Gutman opened the door.
A glad smile lighted his fat face.
He held out a hand and said:
"Ah, come in, sir!
Thank you for coming.
Come in."
Spade shook the hand and entered.
The boy went in behind him.
The fat man shut the door.
Spade took the boy's pistols from his pockets and held them out to Gutman.
"Here.
You shouldn't let him run around with these.
He'll get himself hurt."
The fat man laughed merrily and took the pistols.
"Well, well," he said, "what's this?" He looked from Spade to the boy.
Spade said:
"A crippled newsie took them away from him, but I made him give them back."
The white-faced boy took the pistols out of Gutman's hands and pocketed them. The boy did not speak.
Gutman laughed again.
"By Gad, sir," he told Spade, "you're a chap worth knowing, an amazing character.
Come in.
Sit down.
Give me your hat."
The boy left the room by the door to the right of the entrance.
The fat man installed Spade in a green plush chair by the table, pressed a cigar upon him, held a light to it, mixed whiskey and carbonated water, put one glass in Spade's hand, and, holding the other, sat down facing Spade.
"Now, sir," he said, "I hope you'll let me apologize for—"
"Never mind that," Spade said.
"Let's talk about the black bird."
The fat man cocked his head to the left and regarded Spade with fond eyes.
"All right, sir," he agreed.
"Let's."
He took a sip from the glass in his hand.
"This is going to be the most astounding thing you've ever heard of, sir, and I say that knowing that a man of your caliber in your profession must have known some astounding things in his time."
Spade nodded politely.
The fat man screwed up his eves and asked:
"What do you know, sir, about the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, later called the Knights of Rhodes and other things?"
Spade waved his cigar.
"Not much—only what I remember from history in school—Crusaders or something."
"Very good.
Now you don't remember that Suleiman the Magnificent chased them out of Rhodes in 1523?"
"No."
"Well, sir, he did, and they settled in Crete.
And they stayed there for seven years, until r 530 when they persuaded the Emperor Charles V to give them"—Gutman held up three puffy fingers and counted them— "Malta, Gozo, and Tripoli."
"Yes?"
"Yes, sir, but with these conditions: they were to pay the Emperor each year the tribute of one"—he held up a finger—"faleon in acknowledgment that Malta was still under Spain, and if they ever left the island it was to revert to Spain.
Understand? He was giving it to them, but not unless they used it, and they couldn't give or sell it to anybody else."
"Yes."