“look,”isaid,“i’dputupwhatyouneed.i’mnobigsoft-heartedslob.soyoutakewhat’sofferedandbegood.iwantyououtofmyhairbecausei’vegotafeelingaboutyou.”

“really?”helookeddownintohisglass.hewasonlysippingthestuff.“we’veonlymettwiceandyou’vebeenmorethanwhitetomebothtimes.whatsortoffeeling?”

“afeelingthatnexttimei’llfindyouinworsetroublethanicangetyououtof.idon’tknowjustwhyihavethefeeling,butihaveit.”

hetouchedtherightsideofhisfacegentlywithtwofingertips.“maybeit’sthis.itdoesmakemelookalittlesinister,isuppose.butit’sanhonorablewound—oranyhowtheresultofone.”

“it’snotthat.thatdoesn’tbothermeatall.i’maprivatedick.you’reaproblemthatidon’thavetosolve.buttheproblemisthere.callitahunch.ifyouwanttobeextrapolite,callitasenseofcharacter.maybethatgirldidn’twalkoutonyouatthedancersjustbecauseyouweredrunk.maybeshehadafeelingtoo.”

hesmiledfaintly.“iwasmarriedtoheronce.hernameissylvialennox.imarriedherforhermoney.”

istoodupscowlingathim.“i’llfixyousomescrambledeggs.youneedfood.”

“waitaminute,marlowe.you’rewonderingwhyifiwasdownandoutandsylviahadplentyicouldn’taskherforafewbucks.didyoueverhearofpride?”

“you’rekillingme,lennox.”

“ami?mykindofprideisdifferent.it’stheprideofamanwhohasnothingelse.i’msorryifiannoyyou.”

iwentouttomykitchenandcookedupsomecanadianbaconandscrambledeggsandcoffeeandtoast.weateinthebreakfastnook.thehousebelongedtotheperiodthatalwayshadone.

isaidihadtogototheofficeandwouldpickuphissuitcaseonthewayback.hegavemethecheckticket.hisfacenowhadalittlecolorandtheeyeswerenotsofarbackinhisheadthatyouhadtogropeforthem.

beforeiwentoutiputthewhiskeybottleonthetableinfrontofthecouch.“useyourprideonthat,”isaid.

“andcallvegas,ifonlyasafavortome.”

hejustsmiledandshruggedhisshoulders.iwasstillsoregoingdownthesteps.ididn’tknowwhy,anymorethaniknewwhyamanwouldstarveandwalkthestreetsratherthanpawnhiswardrobe.whateverhisruleswereheplayedbythem.

thesuitcasewasthedamndestthingyoueversaw.itwasbleachedpigskinandwhennewhadbeenapalecreamcolor.thefittingsweregold.itwasenglishmadeandifyoucouldbuyithereatall,itwouldcostmorelikeeighthundredthantwo.

iplankeditdowninfrontofhim.ilookedatthebottleonthecocktailtable.hehadn’ttouchedit.hewasassoberasiwas.hewassmoking,butnotlikingthatverywell.

“icalledrandy,”hesaid.“hewassorebecauseihadn’tcalledhimbefore.”

“ittakesastrangertohelpyou,”isaid.“apresentfromsylvia?”ipointedatthesuitcase.

helookedoutofthewindow.“no.thatwasgiventomeinengland,longbeforeimether.verylongagoindeed.i’dliketoleaveitwithyouifyoucouldlendmeanoldone.”

igotfivedoublesawbucksoutofmywalletanddroppedtheminfrontofhim.“idon’tneedsecurity.”

“thatwasn’ttheideaatall.you’renopawnbroker.ijustdon’twantitwithmeinvegas.andidon’tneedthismuchmoney.”

“okay.youkeepthemoneyandi’llkeepthesuitcase.butthishouseiseasytoburgle.”

“itwouldn’tmatter,”hesaidindifferently.“itwouldn’tmatteratall.”

hechangedhisclothesandweatedinneratmusso’saboutfive-thirty.nodrinks.hecaughtthebusoncahuengaandidrovehomethinkingaboutthisandthat.hisemptysuitcasewasonmybedwherehehadunpackeditandputhisstuffinalightweightjobofmine.hishadagoldkeywhichwasinoneofthelocks.ilockedthesuitcaseupemptyandtiedthekeytothehandleandputitonthehighshelfinmyclothescloset.itdidn’tfeelquiteempty,butwhatwasinitwasnobusinessofmine.

itwasaquietnightandthehouseseemedemptierthanusual.isetoutthechessmenandplayedafrenchdefenseagainststeinitz.hebeatmeinforty-fourmoves,butihadhimsweatingacoupleoftimes.

thephonerangatnine-thirtyandthevoicethatspokewasoneihadheardbefore.

“isthismr.philipmarlowe?”

“yeah.i’mmarlowe.”

“thisissylvialennox,mr.marlowe.wemetverybrieflyinfrontofthedancersonenightlastmonth.iheardafterwardsthatyouhadbeenkindenoughtoseethatterrygothome.”

“ididthat.”

“isupposeyouknowthatwearenotmarriedanymore,buti’vebeenalittleworriedabouthim.hegaveuptheapartmenthehadinwestwoodandnobodyseemstoknowwhereheis.”

“inoticedhowworriedyouwerethenightwemet.”

“look,mr.marlowe,i’vebeenmarriedtotheman.i’mnotverysympathetictodrunks.perhapsiwasalittleunfeelingandperhapsihadsomethingratherimportanttodo.you’reaprivatedetectiveandthiscanbeputonaprofessionalbasis,ifyoupreferit.”

“itdoesn’thavetobeputonanybasisatall,mrs.lennox.he’sonabusgoingtolasvegas.hehasafriendtherewhowillgivehimajob.”

shebrightenedupverysuddenly.“oh—tolasvegas?howsentimentalofhim.that’swhereweweremarried.”

“iguessheforgot,”isaid,“orhewouldhavegonesomewhereelse.”

insteadofhanginguponmeshelaughed.itwasacutelittlelaugh.“areyoualwaysasrudeasthistoyourclients?”

“you’renotaclient,mrs.lennox.”

“imightbesomeday.whoknows?let’ssaytoyourladyfriends,then.”

“sameanswer.theguywasdownandout,starving,dirty,withoutabean.youcouldhavefoundhimifithadbeenworthyourtime.hedidn’twantanythingfromyouthenandheprobablydoesn’twantanythingfromyounow.”

“that,”shesaidcoolly,“issomethingyoucouldn’tpossiblyknowanythingabout.goodnight.”andshehungup.

shewasdeadright,ofcourse,andiwasdeadwrong.butididn’tfeelwrong.ijustfeltsore.ifshehadcalleduphalfanhourearlierimighthavebeensoreenoughtobeatthehelloutofsteinitz—exceptthathehadbeendeadforfiftyyearsandthechessgamewasoutofabook.