“Donald,” Bertha said, “works very fast.”
Whitewell said, “I think I am to be congratulated.” He was looking steadily at Bertha as he spoke.
Bertha lowered her eyes. I’d never seen an expression on her face like that in all the time I’d been with her. She looked coy.
“What’s all this going to cost me?” Whitewell asked.
Bertha’s face changed as though someone had jerked off a mask. “Twenty-five dollars a day and expenses.”
“Isn’t that high?”
“Not for the service we give.”
“I understood a private detective—”
“You’re not hiring a detective, but an agency. Donald will be out on the firing line. I’ll be in the office, but very much on the job.”
“At that figure,” Whitewell said, “it seems to me you should guarantee results.”