"Yes?" The big man's voice had reached the high, breathy pitch of a fife.
"Do you have any idea what time the Spooks usually meet?"
"Well, now," Kettleman said, "I don't really know. You see, the reason I wanted to tell you all this was because Lieutenant Lynch was checking up on all those boys yesterday, and I thought…" He stopped and cleared his throat, and when he began again his voice had dropped almost to a whisper. "Well, Mr. Malone, I thought, after all, that since he was asking me questions—you know, questions about where the Spooks were, and all of that—since he was asking me questions…"
"Yes?" Malone said.
"I thought perhaps I ought to tell you about them," Kettleman said.
"Where they were, and all of that."
Malone stood up. "Mr. Kettleman," he said in his most official voice, "I want you to know that the FBI appreciates what you've done. Your information will probably be very helpful to us, and the FBI certainly commends you for being public-spirited enough to come to us and tell us what you know." He thought for a second, and then added, "In the name of the FBI, Mr. Kettleman—well done!"
Kettleman stared, smiled, and gulped. "My goodness," he said. "Well."
He smiled again, a little more broadly. "One has one's duty, you know.
My, yes. Duty." He nodded to Malone.
"Of course," Malone said, going to the door and opening it. "Thanks again, Mr. Kettleman."
Kettleman saw the open door and headed for it blindly. As he left he flashed one last smile after Malone, who sighed, shut the door, and leaned against it for a second.
The things an FBI agent had to go through!