“Then they’re your detectives!”
Mason said nothing.
She tilted her head defiantly. “Very well,” she said. “You brought this on yourself.”
“Do we have to declare war?” Mason asked.
“Yes,” she said, “unless you retreat.”
“Answer four or five questions,” Mason said, “and I’ll sue for an armistice.”
“No.”
“All right,” he said, “it’s war then.”
They had been swinging along the sidewalk as they talked, apparently a couple gaily chatting with each other. Only a close observer would have noticed the dogged determination on the lawyer’s face and the nervous uneasiness in the girl’s manner.
A signal changed. The crossing officer turned with the approaching stream of pedestrians, walking quietly to stand at watchful attention near the edge of the crossing, his eye shrewdly appraising the automobile traffic, alert to detect the first symptoms of a prohibited left-hand turn.