She pushed the telephone over to the corner of the desk, and said, “It’s a call for you, Alma. A woman’s on the line. Says it’s an emergency.”

Alma Hunter walked swiftly around the desk, picked up the telephone, put the receiver to her ear, gulped once, and said, “Hello.”

The receiver rattled into noise. I saw Alma Hunter’s face twist in a spasm of expression. She said, “For God’s sake,” and listened some more, then asked, “Where are you now? . . . Yes. . . . And you’re going home from there. . . . Well, I’ll meet you there. I’ll come right away, just as quick as I can. . . . Yes, she’s assigning a detective to work on the case—no—no, not herself. . . . No, she doesn’t go out by herself. She’s—she’s—hardly—”

Bertha Cool said, “Don’t be bashful. Tell her I’m fat.”

“She’s—well, she’s fat,” Alma Hunter said. “No, not that. Fat. F-a-t. . . . Yes, that’s right. . . . No, he’s a young man. All right, I’ll bring him with me. How soon? All right—hold the phone a minute.”

She looked up from the telephone and asked me, “Can you go with me right away? That is, can Mrs. Cool let you start right now?”

It was Bertha Cool who answered. “Yes,” she said, “you can do anything you want to with him, dearie. Put him on a collar and lead him around with a leash, for all I care. You’ve rented him. He’s yours.”

“Yes, I’ll bring him,” Alma Hunter said into the telephone, and hung up. She looked at Mrs. Cool. Her voice had just the suspicion of a quaver.

“That was Sandra,” she announced. “She met her brother at the train, and someone ran into her automobile. Her brother was thrown through the windshield. She’s at the emergency hospital. She says her brother knows all about the girl Morgan has been going with, but for some reason he doesn’t want to tell. She says we’ll have to put pressure on him.”

Bertha Cool said, “Go ahead. Donald will know how to bring pressure to bear. He’ll figure it out. Handle it any way you want. Only remember, if we find him tomorrow, it costs you a hundred and fifty bucks just the same.”

“I understand,” Miss Hunter said, “and I’ll pay you now, if you please.”

“I please,” Bertha Cool said calmly.

Alma Hunter opened her purse, took out bills, and started counting them. While she was doing that, I glanced through the allegations of the divorce complaint. After all, those things are largely a matter of form, the allegation of the residence, of the marriage, the statistical statement necessary for the state bureau, the setting up of the cause of action, and the allegations on which alimony is predicated.