He stood up cursing her. Then he said: “Christ! It’ll be easier on my head than sitting here listening to you squawk.” He looked at his watch. “You might as well lock up and go home.”
She said: “I won’t. I’m going to wait right here till you come back.”
He said, “Do as you damned please,” put his hat on, flinched, took it off, and went out carrying it in his hand.
An hour and a half later, at twenty minutes past five, Spade returned. He was cheerful. He came in asking: “What makes you so hard to get along with, sweetheart?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” He put a finger on the tip of Effie Perine’s nose and flattened it. He put his hands under her elbows, lifted her straight up, and kissed her chin. He set her down on the floor again and asked: “Anything doing while I was gone?”
“Luke—what’s his name?—at the Belvedere called up to tell you Cairo has returned. That was about half an hour ago.”
Spade snapped his mouth shut, turned with a long step, and started for the door.
“Did you find her?” the girl called.
“Tell you about it when I’m back,” he replied without pausing and hurried out.
A taxicab brought Spade to the Belvedere within ten minutes of his departure from his office. He found Luke in the lobby. The hotel-detective came grinning and shaking his head to meet Spade. “Fifteen minutes late,” he said. “Your bird has fluttered.”