The tall man was grinning. He drawled: “You’re hard to get along with — ain’t you!”
Shane didn’t answer. He stood with one foot a little in advance of the other and stared at the tall man from under the brim of his dark soft hat. The flesh around his eyes and mouth was very tightly drawn.
The tall man moved his grin from Shane to Gill. He said: “See if you can find that Eastman Op.”
Gill went out of the room hurriedly.
The tall man swung a little in the chair, turned his head to look out the window. His manner when he spoke was casual, forced:
“The McLean girl killed Rigas.”
Shane did not move or speak.
“What did you and him fight about tonight?” The tall man turned to look at Shane. His hands were folded over his broad stomach and he clicked his thumbnails nervously.
Shane cleared his throat. He said huskily: “Am I under arrest?”
“No. But we’ve got enough to held you on suspicion. You’ve sunk a lot of dough in Rigas’ joint and so far as we know you ain’t taken much out. Tonight you had an argument...”