“Then what’s to stop me from walking out of that door?”
“Nothing.”
“All right, then, I’m going to do it.”
“Only,” the man said, “the Sarge left definite orders. The minute you stick your foot through that door, I’m to arrest you, take you down to headquarters, and book you.”
“What,” Bertha demanded indignantly, “is the idea?”
“The Sarge is trying to protect you, that’s all. Once he arrests you, your name gets in the newspapers, and your reputation as a detective is smeared. The Sarge is trying to give you a break.”
“How long do I have to stay here like this?”
“Until the Sarge says different.”
“And when will that be?”
“When he cleans up this angle of the case he’s working on now.”