"Yes, about his ex-bodyguard Thursby."
"Ex?"
"Yes, ex."
"You know that Thursby was no longer associated with Monahan? You know that positively?"
Spade stretched out his hand and dropped the stub of his cigarette into an ashtray on the desk. He spoke carelessly:
"I don't know anything positively except that my client wasn't interested in Monahan, had never been interested in Monahan.
I heard that Thursby took Monahan out to the Orient and lost him."
Again the District Attorney and his assistant exchanged glances.
Thomas, in a tone whose matter-of-factness did not quite hide excitement, said:
"That opens another angle.
Monahan's friends could have knocked Thursby off for ditelung Monahan."
"Dead gamblers don't have any friends," Spade said.
"It opens up two new lines," Bryan said.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling for several seconds, then sat upright quickly.
His orator's face was alight.
"It narrows down to three things.
Number one: Thurshy was killed by the gamblers Monahan had welshed on in Chicago.
Nut knosving Thursby had sloughed Monahan—or not believing it—they killed him because he had been Monahan's associate, or to get him out of the way so they could get to Monahan, or because he had refused to lead them to Monahan.
Number two: he was killed by friends of Monahan.
Or number three: he sold Monahan out to his enemies and then fell out with them and they killed him."
"Or number four," Spade suggested with a cheerful smile: "he died of old age.
You folks aren't serious, are you?"
The two men stared at Spade, but neither of them spoke. Spade turned his smile from one to the other of them and shook his head in mock pity. "You've got Arnold Ruthstein on the brain," he said. Bryan smacked the back of his left hand down into the palm of his right.
"In one of those three categories lies the solution."
The power in his voice was no longer latent.
His right hand, a fist except for protruding forefinger, went up and then down to stop with a jerk when the finger w'as leveled at Spade's chest.
"And you can give us the information that will enable us to determine the category."
Spade said, "Yes?" very lazily. His face was somber.
He touched his lower lip with a finger, looked at the finger, and then scratched the back of his neck w'ith it.
Little irritable lines had appeared in his forehead.
He blew his breath out heavily through his nose and his voice was an illhumored growl. "You wouldn't want the kind of information I could give you, Bryan.
You couldn't use it.
It'd poop this gambler's-revenge-scenario fur you."
Bryan sat up straight and squared his shoulders.
His voice was stern without blustering.
"You are not the judge of that.
Right or wrong, I am nonetheless the District Attorney."
Spade's lifted lip showed his eyetooth.
"I thought this was an informal talk,"
"I am a sworn officer of the law twenty-four hours a day," Bryan said, "and neither formality nor informality justifies your withholding from me evidence of crime, except of course"—he nodded meaningly— "on certain constitutional grounds."
"You mean if it might incriminate me?" Spade asked.
His voice was placid, almost amused, but his face was not.
"Well, I've got better grounds than that, or grounds that suit me better.
My clients are entitled to a decent amount of secrecy.
Maybe I can be made to talk to a Grand Jury or even a Coroner's Jury, but I haven't been called before either yet, and it's a cinch I'm not going to advertise my clients' business until I have to.
Then again, you and the police have both accused me of being mixed up in the other night's murders.
I've had trouble with both of you before.
As far as I can see, my best chance of clearing myself of the trouble you're trying to make for me is by bringing in the murderers—all tied up.
And my only chance of ever catching them and tying them up and bringing them in is by keeping away from you and the police, because neither of you show any signs of knowing what in hell it's all about."
He rose and turned his head over his shoulder to address the stenographer: "Getting this all right, son? Or am I going too fast for you?"