Her eyes suddenly lighted up. She lifted herself a few inches from the settee, settled down again, smoothed her skirt, leaned forward, and spoke eagerly: “And even now you’d be willing to–?”
Spade stopped her with a palm-up motion of one hand. The upper part of his face frowned. The lower part smiled. “That depends,” he said. “The hell of it is, Miss– Is your name Wonderly or Leblanc?”
She blushed and murmured: “It’s really O’Shaughnessy–Brigid O’Shaughnessy.”
“The hell of it is, Miss O’Shaughnessy, that a couple of murders”– she winced–“coming together like this get everybody stirred up, make the police think they can go the limit, make everybody hard to handle and expensive. It’s not–” He stopped talking because she had stopped listening and was waiting for him to finish.
“Mr. Spade, tell me the truth.” Her voice quivered on time verge of hysteria. Her face had become haggard around desperate eyes. “Am I to blame for–for last night?”
Spade shook his head. “Not unless there are things I don’t know about,” he said. “You warned us that Thursby was dangerous. Cf course you lied to us about your sister and all, but that doesn’t count: we didn’t believe you.” He shrugged his sloping shoulders. “I wouldn’t say it was your fault.”
She said, “Thank you,” very softly, and then moved her head from side to side. “But I’ll always blanie 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.”
“You don’t think I had anything to do with the–the murders–do you?”
Spade grinned at her and said: “I forgot to ask you that. Did you?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Now what are we going to tell the police?”
She squirmed on her end of the settee and her eyes wavered between heavy lashes, as if trying and failing to free their gaze from his. She seemed smaller, and very young and oppressed. “Must they know about me at all?” she asked. “I think I’d rather die than that, Mr. Spade. I can’t explain now, but can’t you somehow manage so that you can shield me from them, so I won’t have to answer their questions? I don’t think I could stand being questioned now. I think I would rather die. Can’t you, Mr. Spade?”
“Maybe,” he said, “but I’ll have to know what it’s all about.”
She went down on her knees at his knees. She held her face up to him. Her face was wan, taut, and fearful over tight-clasped hands. “I haven’t lived a good life,” she cried. “I’ve been bad–worse than you could know–but I’m not all bad. Look at me, Mr. Spade. You know I’m not all bad, don’t you? You can see that, can’t you? Then can’t you trust me a little? Oh, I’m so alone and afraid, and I’ve got nobody to help me if you won’t help me. I know I’ve no right to ask you to trust me if I won’t trust you. I do trust you, but I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you now. Later I will, when I can. I’m afraid, Mr. Spade. I’m afraid of trusting you. I don’t mean that. I do trust you, but–I trusted Floyd and– I’ve nobody else, nobody else, Mr. Spade. You can help me. You’ve said you can help me. If I hadn’t believed you could save nie I would have run away today instead of sending for you. If I thought anybody else could save me would I be down on my knees like this? I know this isn’t fair of me. But be generous, Mr. Spade, don’t ask me to be fair. You’re strong, you’re resourceful, you’re brave. You can spare me some of that strength and resourcefulness and courage, surely. Help me, Mr. Spade. Help me because I need help so badly, and because if you don’t where will I find anyone who can, no matter how willing? Help me. I’ve no right to ask you to help me blindly, but I do ask you. Be generous, Mr. Spade. You can help me. Help me.”