The chief pinched his pendulous lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I hope Fred isn’t getting careless,” he said. “I do, indeed. I’d hate to lose Fred. That’s the worst of a man who has a great deal of physical prowess. He underestimates men who are not as strong as he is. I think Fred always underestimates the other man’s mentality, don’t you, m’love?”

“We’ll talk about Fred later,” she said. “Right now we’re talking about hiring Mrs. Cool and Mr. Lam.”

“Leave me out of it,” I said.

Mrs. Cool said, “Don’t pay any attention to Donald. He’s working for me. I’m giving the orders. What’s your proposition?”

“I don’t know that we have any,” Cunweather said.

His tone lacked finality, and Bertha Cool didn’t take the answer as final. She continued to sit there, waiting. Cunweather glanced once more at his wife, twisted his underlip into a weird shape. “I’ll be frank with you, Mrs. Cool,” he said. “We’re in a position where time is precious. Seconds may count. We need help to get certain information. I think you have some of the information we want. We might talk a while.”

“You talk,” she said. “I’ll listen.”

“No, that won’t do at all. We’d have to exchange information.”

Bertha Cool said, “I don’t want any of your information. If you want some of mine, it’s going to cost you money.”

“Yes, yes. I understand,” Cunweather said. “But in order to determine how extensive your information is and how much it might be worth to us, we’d have to talk things over.”

“Go ahead and talk,” Bertha Cool said, shifting her weight in the chair in search of a more comfortable position.

Cunweather said, “We don’t want Morgan Birks now. We do want information about Morgan Birks. We’re particularly interested in knowing about Morgan’s sweetheart. My men slipped up on that, and slipped up badly. I knew that there was to be a play at the Perkins Hotel. I knew Morgan was scheduled to meet someone there. I didn’t know when. I didn’t know whom. Apparently the woman we wanted was registered as Mrs. B. F. Morgan. Now my men were so busy looking for Morgan Birks they didn’t pay much attention to that woman. She gave us the slip.”

Cunweather paused to give Mrs. Cool a chance to talk. She didn’t say anything.

“We’d like very much to know more about Mrs. B. F. Morgan,” Cunweather said.

“How much do you want to know, and what’s it worth?”

“We’d like to know where we could find her.”

“I could help on that,” Bertha Cool said.

“Could you put your finger on her?”

“Yes.”