I went over to the door, opened it, stepped out in the hall.
“All right, then,” Carlton called after us angrily, “go to hell if you want to, and see who cares.”
Sellers came barging out into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him.
I said, “You keep leading with your chin, Frank. Why don’t you stay home and read the funnies? This is a hell of a way to spend Sunday.”
“Ain’t it,” Sellers said grimly. “And I haven’t finished spending it yet, either. There’s one more thing I want to investigate.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll find out.”
We went down in the lift. Sellers called the plain-clothes man in the lobby over to him and said, “I guess that’s all. He’s burnt up and we may as well let him go. He isn’t doing us any good the way he is.”
The plain-clothes man nodded. “Quitting when?” he asked.
“Now,” Sellers said. “Turn in your report. This is quitting time.”