"Of course," Malone said. "Certainly."
"I've worked with many of the organizations in this neighborhood," Kettleman said. "And I've been quite successful in getting to know them, and in being accepted by them. Of course, the major part of my job is more difficult, but—well, I'm sure that's enough about my own background. That isn't what you're interested in, now, is it?"
He looked penitent. Malone said, "It's all right. I don't mind." He shifted positions on the hard chair.
"Well, then," Kettleman said, with the air of a man suddenly getting down to business. He leaned forward eagerly, his eyes big and bright behind the lenses. "There's something very peculiar about those boys," he said in a whisper.
"Really?" Malone said.
"Very peculiar indeed," Kettleman said. "My, yes. All of the other social groups are afraid of them."
"Big, huh?" Malone said. "Big strong boys who—"
"Oh, my, no," Kettleman said. "My goodness, no. All of the Spooks are rather slight, as a matter of fact. They've got something, but it isn't strength."
"My goodness," Malone said tiredly.
"I doubt if—in the language of my own groups—any one of the Spooks could punch his way out of a paper bag," Kettleman said. "It's more than that."