“Well, well, well, Mrs. Cool. I don’t know just what to say. You say that we want Morgan Birks. That isn’t at all correct, and yet it’s the way it would doubtless appear to a person running a detective agency. But let’s concede, just for the sake of the argument, that we would like to have a few words with Morgan Birks—what of it?”

“How much is it worth?”

“Well now,” the fat man said, stroking his chin, “this is a rather unusual proposition.”

“And rather unusual circumstances,” Bertha Cool reminded him.

“Yes, yes, that’s right. It is for a fact—I can’t get over Donald finding this place so promptly. It’s rather uncanny, you know. I had thought that all the necessary precautions had been taken.”

Bertha Cool said, “I know where Morgan Birks can be found. You can’t talk with him. Is that information worth anything to you?”

The smile froze on the chief’s face. Above the curved lips, his eyes were hard and watchful.

“You mean he’s in jail?”

“I mean you can’t talk with him.”

“He’s been drinking again?”

“I can tell you where he is.”

“How much do you want?” the chief asked.

“Whatever it’s worth.”

“Why can’t I talk with him?”

Bertha Cool said, “I don’t want to take an unfair advantage.”

“You mean he’s dead?”

“I can tell you where he is.”

The fat man looked at his wife. She shook her head. The gesture was all but imperceptible.

The chief turned back to Bertha Cool. He seemed more relaxed now. “No,” he said, “the information wouldn’t be worth anything to me. I’m sorry, Mrs. Cool, because I think you have a great deal of ability. And I’m positively fond of Lam. I really am. Perhaps some day I can hire your agency. There might be some information you could get for us.”

Cunweather turned back to his wife, and said, “What do you think, m’love? Don’t you think Mr. Lam is a bright young man?”

Mrs. Cunweather said, tonelessly, “Fred was driving the sedan when he took Lam back to his room. Lam got a look at the license number.”

Cunweather’s headshake was emphatic. “I don’t think he did, m’love. When I told Fred to take the sedan, I cautioned him about that. I told him to switch out the lights when he parked the car, deliver Mr. Lam to his room, and not switch on the car lights until he was certain Lam was where he couldn’t see.”

“That’s how Lam found this place,” Mrs. Cunweather said in a tone of flat finality.