THE GLASS KEY by Dashiell Hammett

She held her hands out to him. “I’m glad,” she said. “I won’t pretend I’m not.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her as he took her hands, “but I wouldn’t have gone a step out of my way to avoid it.”

She said: “And now you know I’m right. He did kill Taylor.” Her eyes were inquisitive.

He nodded. “He told me he did.”

“And you’ll help me now?” Her hands pressed his. She came closer to him.

He hesitated, frowning down at her eager face. “It was self-defense, or an accident,” he said slowly. “I can’t–”

“It was murder!” she cried. “Of course he’d say it was self-defense!” She shook her head impatiently. “And even if it was self-defense or an accident, shouldn’t he be made to go into court and prove it like anybody else?”

“He’s waited too long. This month he’s kept quiet would be against him.”

“Well, whose fault was that?” she demanded. “And do you think he would have kept quiet so long if it had been self-defense?”

He nodded with slow emphasis. “That was on your account. He’s in love with you. He didn’t want you to know he’d killed your brother.”

“I do know it!” she cried fiercely. “And everybody’s going to know it!”

He moved his shoulders a little. His face was gloomy.

“You won’t help me?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why? You’ve quarreled with him.”

“I believe his story. I know it’s too late for him to put it across in court. We’re through, but I won’t do that to him.” He moistened his lips. “Let him alone. It’s likely they’ll do it to him without your help or mine.”

“I won’t,” she said. “I won’t let him alone until he’s been punished as he deserves.” She caught her breath and her eyes darkened. “Do you believe him enough to risk finding proof that he lied to you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

“Will you help me find proof of the truth, whether he’s lying or not? There must be positive proof somewhere, some proof that we can find. If you really believe him you won’t be afraid to help me find it.”

He studied her face awhile before asking: “If I do and we find your positive proof, will you promise to accept it whichever way it stacks up?”

“Yes,” she said readily, “if you will too.”

“And you’ll keep what we find to yourself till we’ve finished the job–found our positive proof–won’t use what we find against him till we’ve got it all?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a bargain,” he said.

She sobbed happily and tears came to her eyes.

He said: “Sit down.” His face was lean and hard, his voice curt. “We’ve got to get schemes rigged. Have you heard from him this afternoon or evening, since he and I had our row?”

“No.”

“Then we can’t be sure how you stand with him. There’s a chance he may have decided later that I was right. That won’t make any difference between him and me now–we’re done–but we’ve got to find out as soon as we can.” He scowled at her feet and brushed his mustache with a thumb-nail. “You’ll have to wait till he comes to you. You can’t afford to call him up. If he’s shaky about you that might decide him. How sure of him are you?”

She was sitting in the chair by the table. She said: “I’m as sure of him as a woman can be of a man.” She uttered a little embarrassed laugh. “I know that sounds– But I am, Mr. Beaumont.”

He nodded. “Then that’s probably all right, but you ought to know definitely by tomorrow. Have you ever tried to pump him?”

“Not yet, not really. I was waiting–”

“Well, that’s out for the time being. No matter how sure you are of him you’ll have to be careful now. Have you picked up anything you haven’t told me about?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I haven’t known very well how to go about it. That’s why I so wanted you to–”

He interrupted her again: “Didn’t it occur to you to hire a private detective?”

“Yes, but I was afraid, afraid I’d go to one who’d tell Paul. I didn’t know who to go to, who I could trust.”

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