After a long moment of motionlessness Spade’s muscles relaxed. “Then get him out of here quick,” he said. His smile had gone away again, leaving his face sullen and somewhat pale.
Tom, staying close to Spade, keeping his arms on Spade’s arms, turned his head to look over his shoulder at Lieutenant Dundy. Tom’s small eyes were reproachful.
Dundy’s fists were clenched in front of his body and his feet were planted firm and a little apart on the floor, but the truculence in his face was modified by thin rims of white showing between green irises and upper eyelids.
“Get their names and addresses,” he ordered.
Tom looked at Cairo, who said quickly: “Joel Cairo, Hotel Belvedere.”
Spade spoke before Tom could question the girl. “You can always get in touch with Miss O’Shaughnessy through me.”
Tom looked at Dundy. Dundy growled: “Get her address.”
Spade said: “Her address is in care of my office.”
Dundy took a step forward, halting in front of the girl. “Where do you live?” he asked.
Spade addressed Tom: “Get him out of here. I’ve had enough of this.”
Tom looked at Spade’s eyes—hard and glittering—and mumbled: “Take it easy, Sam.” He buttoned his coat and turned to Dundy, asking, in a voice that aped casualness, “Well, is that all?” and taking a step towards the door.
Dundy’s scowl failed to conceal indecision.