He held up his hand and said, “Keep your shirt on, baby, keep your shirt on. I’m just leading up to something.”

“Well, lead up to it right now.”

“I’ll give you a chance at Morgan,” he said. “You can serve those papers on him and go ahead and rush your divorce case through. But I’m going to see that Morgan has a square deal.”

“What do you want?”

“That whole paragraph in there about property,” he said. “You were earning your living when Morgan met you. You’ve feathered your nest since then. God knows how much you’ve picked up, but it’s plenty—you and that wheedling, cooing way of yours. You’ve managed to get a pretty good apartment here. I suppose the rent is paid for a while on a lease. You’ve got a whole closet full of glad rags. You’ve salted a nice little wad of dough. With those clothes on your back, your figure, and your knowledge of what it takes to make men putty in your hands, you’ll take a trip to Europe and wind up with a couple of dukes.”

“You showed him those papers?” she asked me, the words coming out in a rush. “You let him read my divorce complaint?”

“Yes,” I said. “You sent me in to talk to him.”

She said irritably, “Of all the fool things—” She broke off, turned to her brother. “I’m finished with men,” she said.

He laughed sarcastically.

Sandra Birks had lightning in her eyes, but she kept her voice calm. “What do you want, Bleatie? This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“I want you to go to your lawyer and get a new divorce complaint. I want one that doesn’t have anything in it about property. You get a divorce. You go your way; Morgan goes his. That’s fair.”

“What do you mean, property?”

“That stuff about the safety deposit boxes and all that stuff. You—”

She whirled on me. “You’re responsible for this. Why did you think you had to show him the papers?”

“I made him,” Bleatie said. “Keep your shirt on, Babe. I wasn’t going to be a sucker in this thing. One of these days Morgan is going to be out in the clear. Morgan can look me up then. Morgan isn’t a damn fool. The minute I drag the girl into it, he’s going to know where the tip-off came from. Remember that—Morgan Birks isn’t anybody’s damn fool!”

“I haven’t any time to go to my lawyers and get another complaint,” she said. “This one has already been filed and a summons issued.”

“Well, you can change it, can’t you?”

“I don’t think so.”