“Oh, I didn’t! But I was mad, Sam, and I wanted to hurt you.”
“It made things damned awkward.” He put his arm around her and drew her nearer. “But it’s all right now, only don’t get any more crazy notions like that.”
“I won’t,” she promised, “ever. But you weren’t nice to me last night. You were cold and distant and wanted to get rid of me, when I had come down there and waited so long to warn you, and you—”
“Warn me about what?”
“About Phil. He’s found out about—about you being in love with me, and Miles had told him about my wanting a divorce, though of course he never knew what for, and now Phil thinks we—you killed his brother because he wouldn’t give me the divorce so we could get married. He told me he believed that, and yesterday he went and told the police.”
“That’s nice,” Spade said softly. “And you came to warn me, and because I was busy you got up on your ear and helped this damned Phil Archer stir things up.”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I know you won’t forgive me. I—I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“You ought to be,” he agreed, “on your own account as well as mine. Has Dundy been to see you since Phil did his talking? Or anybody from the bureau?”
“No.” Alarm opened her eyes and mouth.
“They will,” he said, “and it’d be just as well to not let them find you here. Did you tell them who you were when you phoned?”
“Oh, no! I simply told them that if they’d go to your apartment right away they’d learn something about the murder and hung up.”