“I don’t want any report. I want action.”

“I may need someone to help me.”

“What for?”

“I have to shadow a girl. I’ve located Morgan Birks’ girl friend. I have to tell her something to make her run to Morgan and then shadow her.”

“Well, what’s holding you back?”

“I’ve arranged for a car. Miss Hunter is going to drive me.”

“All right. Let her drive. One other thing,” she said. “As soon as you get Morgan Birks located, call Sandra.”

“That may interfere with the service of the papers,” I said.

She grinned. “Don’t worry about that. Financial arrangements have been duly and properly made.”

“I may get into a mess. That’s a screwy family. Sandra Birks’ brother intimates there’s more to be said on Birks’ side of the case than on hers.”

“We’re not paid to take sides; we’re paid to serve papers.”

“I understand that, but there may be some trouble. How about giving me something to show I’m working for the agency?”

She looked at me for a moment, then opened a drawer in her desk, took out a printed form, and filled it in with my name, age, and description. She signed it, blotted it, and handed it to me.

“Now how about a gun?” I asked.

“No.”

“I may get in a jam.”

“No.”

“Suppose I do?”

“Fight your way out.”

“I can do a lot more with a gun,” I said.

“You can do too much with a gun. You’ve been reading detective magazines.”

I said, “You’re the boss,” and started for the door. She said, “Wait a minute. Come back here. While you’re here, I have something to say.”

I turned back.

“I’ve found out all about you, Donald,” she said in a motherly tone of voice. “You gave yourself away the way you looked through those legal papers this morning. I knew right away you’d had a legal education. You’re young. You’ve been in trouble. You weren’t trying to get work in a law office. When I asked you about your education, you didn’t dare to tell me anything about your law work.”

I tried to keep my face under control.

“Donald,” she said, “I know your real name. I know all about your trouble. You were admitted to the bar. You were disbarred for violating professional ethics.”

“I wasn’t disbarred,” I said, “and I didn’t violate professional ethics.”

“The grievance committee reported that you did.”

“The grievance committee were a lot of stuffed shirts. I talked too much, that’s all.”

“What about, Donald?”

“I did some work for a client,” I said. “We got to talking about the law. I told him a man could break any law and get away with it if he went at it right.”

“That’s nothing,” she said. “Anyone knows that.”