“Quit what?”
“Quit working for me.”
Whitewell looked at me. His eyebrows leveled. “ When does he want to quit?”
“Now,” I said. “Immediately.”
“What’s the matter?” he asked, looking from Bertha to me.
“He’s in love,” Bertha explained. “She’s a dear, sweet, innocent little girl who—”
I got up and started for the door. “If you’re going to discuss my private affairs,” I said, “you’ll probably feel more free to do so if I’m not here. And if you’re going to talk about that girl, I don’t want to listen. She’s far too good for you to understand.”
I pulled the door shut behind me and started down the corridor. I’d gone half a dozen steps when I heard the door jerk open, then Bertha Cool’s voice saying, “Let him go, Arthur. It won’t do any good. Once he’s made up his mind, he—” The closing door cut off the rest of what she had to say.
I walked back to the Cactus Patch. Louie Hazen hadn’t got back. I went down to the telegraph office and said, “I’m Donald Lam, with the B. Cool Detective Agency. I’m expecting a telegram from Los Angeles sent to me at the Sal Sagev Hotel. It—”
“Just a minute,” the attendant said. “I’ll take a look.”