"So am I," said the lawyer blithely. "But what are we going to do about it? We've got to make a living, don't we?"
"I ain't so sure of that."
"Anyhow, we've got to buy shoes for our kids, Hughie."
"Oh, come on," muttered Donovan, "let's talk business."
They talked business until Quirk remembered another appointment and had to leave. When the lawyer had gone, Donovan put his head into the large room next his own and called to a sleepy officer seated at a desk.
"Anderson," he asked, "where's Patrolman Guth?"
Anderson yawned.
"Just come in, Lieutenant," he vouchsafed: "him and Mitchell. He's in the locker-room."
"Send him in here."
Donovan closed the door and sat at his table, frowning at its surface, until Guth entered.