Bertha went into her private office, unlocked the desk, took out the cash box, unlocked it, took out twenty-five dollars, but waited to take it back to the outer office until her ears told her that Elsie Brand’s typewriter had quit clacking. Then she came marching out, took the receipt Elsie handed her, read it, pushed it in front of Jerry Bollman and said, “All right, sign here.”
He read the receipt and said, “My God, this signs away my soul.”
“More than that,” Bertha told him facetiously. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be worth the twenty-five bucks.”
He grinned at her maliciously, saying, “You’re damn smart, aren’t you?” and took the fountain pen Bertha Cool extended him. He signed the receipt with a flourish, gave it to her with his left hand, and held out his right for the two tens and the five which Bertha gave him.
Bertha handed the receipt to Elsie Brand. “File this.”
Bollman said, “I could go broke working for you.”
Bertha said, “Most witnesses tell what they know just by way of being decent.”
“I know,” Bollman said wearily. “I got cured of that a long time ago. Well, I’ll go down and buy a package of cigarettes. That and the expenses will just use up the twenty-five. Perhaps we can do business again some day.”
“Perhaps,” Bertha said, and watched him walk out.
“Thank God, he didn’t want to shake hands,” she told Elsie Brand. “Now ring up the residence of Harlow Milbers. Ask for Mrs. Nettie Cranning. Tell her Bertha Cool wants to speak with her on the telephone. Buzz my office when you get her.”