"I do, Henry. And don't you send half a dozen squad cars screaming up here to grab me again, because if you do the FBI will hear about it at once, and then they'll think I've violated my parole by getting into bad company and associating with policemen again, and of course they'd have to come right over and ask to have me back."
"I don't believe—"
"But you must, Comrade. If you don't, you're liable to look awful foolish. And that would never do. Think of your dignity. Think of the prestige of the Force. And if that's too much work for you, call Brother Eldon's office and verify it."
There was an interval of silence, during which Simon could almost see the detective's aorta laboring like a stimulated blow-fish.
Finally Fernack said, in a painful parody of his ordinary voice: "Templar, what are you doing in this setup?"
"You heard from Fifty-first Street?"
"Yes." It was a grudging admission. "But—"
"Then at least you've got something."
"But where did you find it?"
"I can't tell you yet. But at least I'm giving you a break. Don't. you think I'm being good to you? I don't think you appreciate it. Think of the glory I'm helping you to grab for yourself. And now I'm going to give you some more. By tomorrow, you'll have half the morning paper headlines all to yourself."