“Who is it?” the girl whispered, coming close to Spade; and Cairo’s eyes jerked back to ask the same question.
Spade gave his answer irritably: “I don’t know.”
The bell rang again, more insistently.
“Well, keep quiet,” Spade said, and went out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Spade turned on the light in the passageway and opened the door to the corridor. Lieutenant Dundy and Tom Polhaus were there.
“Hello, Sam,” Tom said. “We thought maybe you wouldn’t’ve gone to bed yet.”
Dundy nodded, but said nothing.
Spade said good-naturedly: “Hello. You guys pick swell hours to do your visiting in. What is it this time?”
Dundy spoke then, quietly: “We want to talk to you, Spade.”
“Well?” Spade stood in the doorway, blocking it. “Go ahead and talk.”
Tom Polhaus advanced saying: “We don’t have to do it standing here, do we?”
Spade stood in the doorway and said: “You can’t come in.” His tone was very slightly apologetic.
Tom’s thick-featured face, even in height with Spade’s, took on an expression of friendly scorn, though there was a bright gleam in his small shrewd eyes. “What the hell, Sam?” he protested and put a big hand playfully on Spade’s chest.