“You look it.”
Whitewell said, “We’ll have him arrested.”
“We won’t need to. When he was trying to, put the finishing touches on me, a cop interfered.”
“What happened to the cop?”
“He looks as bad as I do.”
Bertha Cool and Whitewell exchanged glances.
“Well,” Whitewell said, “you can get after Miss Framley now and find out about that letter.”
“Better let things cool down a little.”
Bertha frowned as though something was puzzling her. Then she said, “Donald, go down to your room and get on a clean shirt. Get some of that dust out of your clothes. Do you have another suit with you?”
“No.”