“You can’t come into my private office this way,” Bertha blazed.
“I know it, Bertha,” he said placatingly, “but now that I’m in here, I can’t go away without taking your client with me.”
“Well, you just get the hell out of here,” Bertha stormed. “I’m talking business with this man. I have a right to conclude my business transaction. You can wait out in the corridor. You—”
“Sorry, Bertha,” Sellers said, “but I’m not waiting anywhere. I have a warrant for the arrest of Everett Belder on the charge of first-degree murder.”
Belder tried to get up out of the chair. His knees refused to function. He made a moaning noise which was almost a groan.
Bertha said angrily, “Well, get out of here for five minutes, anyway. Belder is — he wants to employ me. I want to get the financial end of it straightened out.”
Sellers didn’t move.
“Just five minutes,” Bertha pleaded. “Surely I’m entitled to that. I’m entitled to be paid for what I’m doing.”
Sellers grinned at Bertha Cool. “Okay, Bertha. You’ve been a good sport. You—” His eye fell on the spectacle case on Bertha’s desk.
“What’s this?” he asked curiously.