Cairo edged closer to the boy on the sofa and began whispering in his ear again. The boy shrugged irritably.
Spade, looking at the pistols in his hand and then at Gutman, went out into the passageway, to the closet there. He opened the door, put the pistols inside on the top of a trunk, shut the door, locked it, put the key in his trousers-pocket, and went to the kitchen door.
Brigid O’Shaughnessy was filling an aluminum percolator.
“Find everything?” Spade asked.
“Yes,” she replied in a cool voice, not raising her head. Then si-ic set the percolator aside and came to the door. She blushed and her eyes were large and moist and chiding. “You shouldn’t have done that to me, Sam,” si-ic said softly.
“I had to find out, angel.” He bent down, kissed her mouth lightly, and returned to the living-room.
Gutman smiled at Spade and offered him the white envelope, saying: “This will soon be yours; you might as well take it now.”
Spade did not take it. He sat in the armchair and said: “There’s plenty of time for that. We haven’t done enough-i talking about the moneyend. I ought to have more than ten thousand.”
Gutman said: “Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
Spade said: “You’re quoting me, but it’s not all the money in the world.”
“No, sir, it’s not. I grant you that. But it’s a lot of money to be picked up in as few days and as easily as you’re getting it.”
“You think it’s been so damned easy?” Spade asked, and shrugged. “Well, maybe, but that’s my business.”
“It certainly is,” the fat man agreed. He screwed up his eyes, moved his head to indicate the kitchen, and lowered his voice. “Are you sharing with her?”
Spade said: “That’s my business too.”
“It certainly is,” the fat man agreed once more, “but”–he hesitated–“I’d like to give you a word of advice.” “Co ahead.”
“If you don’t–I dare say you’ll give her some money in any event, but–if you don’t give her as much as she thinks she ought to have, my word of advice is–be careful.”
Spade’s eyes held a mocking light. He asked: “Bad?”
“Bad,” the fat man replied.
Spade grinned and began to roll a cigarette.
Cairo, still muttering in the boy’s ear, had put his arm around the boy’s shoulders again. Suddenly the boy pushed his arm away and turned on the sofa to face the Levantine. The boy’s face held disgust and anger. He made a fist of one small hand and struck Cairo’s mouth with it. Cairo cried out as a woman might have cried and drew back to the very end of the sofa. He took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and put it to his mouth. It came away daubed with blood. He put it to his mouth once more and looked reproachfully at the boy. The boy snarled, “Keep away from me,” and put his face between his hands again. Cairo’s handkerchief released the fragrance of chypre in the room.
Cairo’s cry had brought Brigid O’Shaughnessy to the door. Spade, grinning, jerked a thumb at the sofa and told her: “The course of true love. How’s the food coming along?”
“It’s coming,” she said and went back to the kitchen.
Spade lighted his cigarette and addressed Gutman: “Let’s talk about money.”
“Willingly, sir, with all my heart,” the fat man replied, “but I might as well tell you frankly right now that ten thousand is every cent I can raise.”
Spade exhaled smoke. “I ought to have twenty.”
“I wish you could. I’d give it to you gladly if I had it, but ten thousand dollars is every cent I can manage, on my word of honor. Of course, sir, you understand that is simply the first payment. Later–”
Spade laughed. “I know you’ll give me millions later,” he said, “but let’s stick to this first payment now. Fifteen thousand?”
Gutman smiled and frowned and shook his head. “Mr. Spade, I’ve told you frankly and candidly and on my word of honor as a gentleman that ten thousand dollars is all the money I’ve got–every penny–and all I can raise.”