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〃Indeed？ And who are you； sir？〃
〃Philip Marlowe。 A private detective。 I'm working for Mrs。 Murdock。〃
〃Indeed；〃 he said for the third time。 He cleared his throat carefully。 〃And what did you wish to talk to me about； Mr。 Marlowe？〃
〃About this coin。〃
〃But I was informed it was not for sale。〃
〃I still want to talk to you about it。 In person。〃
〃Do you mean she has changed her mind about selling？〃
〃No。〃
〃Then I'm afraid I don't understand what you want； Mr。 Marlowe。 What have we to talk about？〃 He sounded sly now。
I took the ace out of my sleeve and played it with a languid grace。 〃The point is； Mr。 Morningstar； that at the time you called up you already knew the coin wasn't for sale。〃
〃Interesting；〃 he said slowly。 〃How？〃
〃You're in the business； you couldn't help knowing。 It's a matter of public record that the Murdock collection cannot be sold during Mrs。 Murdock's lifetime。〃
〃Ah；〃 he said。 〃Ah。〃 There was a silence。 Then； 〃At three o'clock；〃 he said； not sharp； but quick。 〃I shall be glad to see you here in my office。 You probably know where it is。 Will that suit you？〃
〃I'll be there；〃 I said。
I hung up and lit my pipe again and sat there looking at the wall。 My face was stiff with thought； or with something that made my face stiff。 I took Linda Murdock's photo out of my pocket； stared at it for a while； decided that the face was pretty monplace after all； locked the photo away in my desk。 I picked Murdock's second match out of my ashtray and looked it over。 The lettering on this one read： TOP ROW W。 D。 WRIGHT '36。
I dropped it back in the tray； wondering what made this important。 Maybe it was a clue。
I got Mrs。 Murdock's check out of my wallet； endorsed it； made out a deposit slip and a check for cash； got my bank book out of the desk； and folded the lot under a rubber band and put them in my pocket。
Lois Magic was not listed in the phone book。
I got the classified section up on the desk and made a list of the half dozen theatrical agencies that showed in the largest type and called them。 They all had bright cheerful voices and wanted to ask a lot of questions； but they either didn't know or didn't care to tell me anything about a Miss Lois Magic； said to be an entertainer。
I threw the list in the waste basket and called Kenny Haste； a crime reporter on the Chronicle。
〃What do you know about Alex Morny？〃 I asked him when we were through cracking wise at each other。
〃Runs a plushy night club and gambling joint in Idle Valley； about two miles off the highway back towards the hills。 Used to be in pictures。 Lousy actor。 Seems to have plenty of protection。 I never heard of him shooting anybody on the public square at high noon。 Or at any other time for that matter。 But I wouldn't like to bet on it。〃
〃Dangerous？〃
〃I'd say he might be； if necessary。 All those boys have been to picture shows and know how night club bosses are supposed to act。 He has a bodyguard who is quite a character。 His name's Eddie Prue； he's about six feet five inches tall and thin as an honest alibi。 He has a frozen eye； the result of a war wound。〃
〃Is Morny dangerous to women？〃
〃Don't be Victorian； old top。 Women don't call it danger。〃
〃Do you know a girl named Lois Magic； said to be an entertainer。 A tall gaudy blond； I hear。〃
〃No。 Sounds as though I might like to。〃
〃Don't be cute。 Do you know anybody named Vannier？ None of these people are in the phone book。〃
〃Nope。 But I could ask Gertie Arbogast； if you want to call back。 He knows all the night club aristocrats。 And heels。〃
〃Thanks； Kenny。 I'll do that。 Half an hour？〃
He said that would be fine； and we hung up。 I locked the office and left。
At the end of the corridor； in the angle of the wall； a youngish blond man in a brown suit and a cocoa…colored straw hat with a brown and yellow tropical print band was reading the evening paper with his back to the wall。 As I passed him he yawned and tucked the paper under his arm and straightened up。
He got into the elevator with me。 He could hardly keep his eyes open he was so tired。 I went out on the street and walked a block to the bank to deposit my check and draw out a little folding money for expenses。 From there I went to the Tigertail Lounge and sat in a shallow booth and drank a martini and ate a sandwich。 The man in the brown suit posted himself at the end of the bar and drank coca colas and looked bored and piled pennies in front of him； carefully smoothing the edges。 He had his dark glasses on again。 That made him invisible。
I dragged my sandwich out as long as I could and then strolled back to the telephone booth at the inner end of the bar。 The man in the brown suit turned his head quickly and then covered the motion by lifting his glass。 I dialed the Chronicle office again。
〃Okay；〃 Kenny Haste said。 〃Gertie Arbogast says Morny married your gaudy blond not very long ago。 Lois Magic。 He doesn't know Vannier。 He says Morny bought a place out beyond Bel…Air； a white house on Stillwood Crescent Drive； about five blocks north of Sunset。 Gertie says Morny took it over from a busted flush named Arthur Blake Popham who got caught in a mail fraud rap。 Popham's initials are still on the gates。 And probably on the toilet paper； Gertie says。 He was that kind of a guy。 That's all we seem to know。〃
〃Nobody could ask more。 Many thanks； Kenny。〃
I hung up； stepped out of the booth； met the dark glasses above the brown suit under the cocoa straw hat and watched them turn quickly away。
I spun around and went back through a swing door into the kitchen and through that to the alley and along the alley a quarter block to the back of the parking lot where I had put my car。
No sand…colored coupé succeeded in getting behind me as I drove off； in the general direction of Bel…Air。
5
Stillwood Crescent Drive curved leisurely north from Sunset Boulevard； well beyond the Bel…Air Country Club golf course。 The road was lined with walled and fenced estates。 Some had high walls； some had low walls； some had ornamental iron fences； some were a bit oldfashioned and got along with tall hedges。 The street had no sidewalk。 Nobody walked in that neighborhood； not even the mailman。
The afternoon was hot； but not hot like Pasadena。 There was a drowsy smell of flowers and sun； a swishing of lawn sprinklers gentle behind hedges and walls； the clear ratchety sound of lawn mowers moving delicately over serene and confident lawns。
I drove up the hill slowly； looking for monograms on gates。 Arthur Blake Popham was the name。 ABP would be the initials。 I found them almost at the top； gilt on a black shield； the gates folded back on a black position driveway。
It was a glaring white house that had the air of being brand new； but the landscaping was well advanced。 It was modest enough for the neighborhood； not more than fourteen rooms and probably only one swimming pool。 Its wall was low； made of brick with the concrete all oozed out between and set that way and painted over white。 On top of the wall a low iron railing painted black。 The name A。 P。 Morny was stencilled on the large silver…colored mailbox at the service entrance。
I parked my crate on the street and walked up the black driveway to a side door of glittering white paint shot with patches of color from the stained glass canopy over it。 I hammered on a large brass knocker。 Back along the side of the house a chauffeur was washing off a Cadillac。
The door opened and a hard…eyed Filipino in a white coat curled his lip at me。 I gave him a card。
〃Mrs。 Morny；〃 I said。
He shut the door。 Time passed； as it always does when I go calling。 The swish of water on the Cadillac had a cool sound。 The chauffeur was a little runt in breeches and leggings and a sweat…stained shirt。 He looked like an overgrown jockey and he made the same kind of hissing noise as he worked on the car that a groom makes rubbing down a horse。
A red…throated hummingbird went into a scarlet bush beside the door； shook the long tubular blooms around a little； and zoomed off so fast he simply disappeared in the air。
The door opened； the Filipino poked my card at me。 I didn't take it。
〃What you want？〃
It was a tight crackling voice； like someone tiptoeing across a lot of eggshells。
〃Want to see Mrs。 Morny。〃
〃She not at home。〃
〃Didn't you know that when I gave you the card？〃
He opened his fingers and let the card flutter to the ground。 He grinned； showing me a lot of cut…rate dental work。
〃I know when she tell me。〃
He shut the door in my face； not gently。
I picked the card up and walked along the side of the house to where the chauffeur was squirting water on the Cadillac sedan and rubbing the dirt off with a big sponge。 He had red rimmed eyes and a bang of corn…colored hair。 A cigarette hung exhausted at the corner of his lower lip。
He gave me the quick side glance of a man who is minding his own business with difficulty。 I said：
〃Where's the boss？〃
The cigarette jiggled in his mouth。 The water went on swishing gently on the paint。
〃Ask at the house； Jack。〃
〃I done asked。 They done shut the door in mah face。〃
〃You're breaking my he