She said, “Thank you,” very softly, and then moved her head from side to side. “But I’ll always blame myself.” She put a hand to her throat. “ Mr. Archer was so—so alive yesterday afternoon, so solid and hearty and—”
“Stop it,” Spade commanded. “He knew what he was doing. They’re the chances we take.”
“Was—was he married?”
“Yes, with ten thousand insurance, no children, and a wife who didn’t like him.”
“Oh, please don’t!” she whispered.
Spade shrugged again. “That’s the way it was.” He glanced at his watch and moved from his chair to the settee beside her. “There’s no time for worrying about that now.” His voice was pleasant but firm. “Out there a flock of policemen and assistant district attorneys and reporters are running around with their noses to the ground. What do you want to do?”
“I want you to save me from—from it all,” she replied in a thin tremulous voice. She put a timid hand on his sleeve. “ Mr. Spade, do they know about me?”
“Not yet. I wanted to see you first.”
“What—what would they think if they knew about the way I came to you—with those lies?”
“It would make them suspicious. That’s why I’ve been stalling them till I could see you. I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to let them know all of it. We ought to be able to fake a story that will rock them to sleep, if necessary.”