The boy walked over and stood close to Spade, a little in front of him, but not directly between Spade and the door.
The boy's right hand was inside his coat over his heart.
The corners of his mouth twitched.
Spade essayed his sixth step.
The boy's leg darted out across Spade's leg, in front.
Spade tripped over the interfering leg and crashed face-down on the floor.
The boy, keeping his right hand under his coat, looked down at Spade.
Spade tried to get up.
The boy drew his right foot far back and kicked Spade's temple.
The kick rolled Spade over on his side.
Once more he tried to get up, could not, and went to sleep.
XIV.La Paloma
Spade, coming around the corner from the elevator at a few minutes past six in the morning, saw yellow light glowing through the frosted glass of his office-door.
He halted abruptly, set his lips together, looked up and down the corridor, and advanced to the door with swift quiet strides.
He put his hand on the knob and turned it with care that permitted neither rattle nor click. He turned the knob until it would turn no farther: the door was locked.
Holding the knob still, he changed hands, taking it now in his left hand.
With his right hand he brought his keys out of his pocket, carefully, so they could not jingle against one another.
He separated the office-key from the others and, smothering the others together in his palm, inserted the office-key in the lock.
The insertion was soundless.
He balanced himself on the balls of his feet, filled his lungs, clicked the door open, and went in.
Effie Perine sat slceping with her head on her forearms, her forearms on her desk.
She wore her coat and had one of Spade's overcoats wrapped cape-fashion around her.
Spade blew his breath out in a muffled laugh, shut the door behind him, and crossed to the inner door.
The inner office was empty.
He went over to the girl and put a hand on her shoulder.
She stirred, raised her head drowsily, and her eyelids fluttered. Suddenly she sat up straight, opening her eyes wide.
She saw Spade, smiled, leaned back in her chair, and rubbed her eyes with her fingers.
"So you finally got back?" she said.
"What time is it?"
"Six o'clock.
What are you doing here?"
She shivered, drew Spade's overcoat closer around her, and yawned.
"You told me to stay till you got back or phoned."
"Oh, you're the sister of the boy who stood on the burning deck?"
"I wasn't going to—" She broke off and stood up, letting his coat slide down on the chair behind her.
She looked with dark excited eyes at his temple under the brim of his hat and exclaimed: "Oh, your head!
What happened?"
His right temple was dark and swollen.
"I don't know whether I fell or was slugged.
I don't think it amounts to much, but it hurts like hell."
He barely touched it with his fingers, flinched, turned his grimace into a grim smile, and explained: "I went visiting, was fed knockout-drops, and came to twelve hours later all Spread out on a man's floor."
She reached up and removed his hat from his head.
"It's terrible," she said.
"You'll have to get a doctor. You can't walk around with a head like that."
"It's not as bad as it looks, except for the headache, and that might be mostly from the drops."
He went to the cabinet in the corner of the office and ran cold water on a handkerchief.
"Anything turn up after I left?"
"Did you find Miss O'Shaughnessy, Sam?"
"Not yet.
Anything turn up after I left?"