“All right,” Bertha said, “send him in.”
The man was smiling and affable as he entered the office. “Rather crude,” he said, “that shadowing job you tried on me. No hard feelings, eh, Mrs. Cool?”
Bertha didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been thinking things over,” the man went on. “Perhaps you were telling the truth. I’m going to make you a deal. The girl doesn’t know who hit her. I guess I’m about the only one who does. Now, that information isn’t doing me any good locked up in my notebook so I’m going to give you the girl’s name and address. It won’t cost you a cent. Go see her. Talk with her. She’s got a swell cause of action. Twenty-five per cent is what I want.”
“Twenty-five per cent of what?” Bertha asked.
“Of what she gets from the man who was driving the car. He’s probably insured. There’ll be a settlement.”
“I don’t have anything to do with that,” Bertha said. “I told you that before.”
“I know. You told me that. No argument about that. Forewarned is forearmed. But I’m telling you that if she wants to find out who hit her, it’s going to cost her a fat slice of her settlement. I’ll have a lawyer draw up an agreement all shipshape. Is it a deal?”
Bertha Cool clamped her lips together, shook her head with dogged obstinacy.
Her visitor laughed. “Don’t kid me. Of course, it’s a deal. You may not be interested in the lawsuit now, but you will be after you think it over. Well, you can always get me by putting an ad in the personal column.”