“That’s a lie,” Spade said. “You had Thursby hooked and you knew it. He was a sucker for women. His record shows that—the only falls he took were over women. And once a chump, always a chump. Maybe you didn’t know his record, but you’d know you had him safe.”
She blushed and looked timidly at him.
He said: “You wanted to get him out of the way before Jacobi came with the loot. What was your scheme?”
“I—I knew he’d left the States with a gambler after some trouble. I didn’t know what it was, but I thought that if it was anything serious and he saw a detective watching him he’d think it was on account of the old trouble, and would be frightened into going away. I didn’t think—”
“You told him he was being shadowed,” Spade said confidently. “Miles hadn’t many brains, but he wasn’t clumsy enough to be spotted the first night.”
“I told him, yes. When we went out for a walk that night I pretended to discover Mr. Archer following us and pointed him out to Floyd.” She sobbed. “But please believe, Sam, that I wouldn’t have done it if I had thought Floyd would kill him. I thought he’d be frightened into leaving the city. I didn’t for a minute think he’d shoot him like that.”
Spade smiled wolfishly with his lips, but not at all with his eyes. He said: “If you thought he wouldn’t you were right, angel.”
The girl’s upraised face held utter astonishment.
Spade said: “Thursby didn’t shoot him.”
Incredulity joined astonishment in the girl’s face.
Spade said: “Miles hadn’t many brains, but, Christ! he had too many years’ experience as a detective to be caught like that by the man he was