‘No. I assumed he was tougher than that. But felonious assault is pretty damn serious itself. What do you know about it?’

‘Would you hand me those notes, please?’

I took them off the desk and passed them to her, so completely at sea now I didn’t feel anything at all. She walked around between the beds and sat down on the farther one with a leg doubled under her and the pleated skirt spread carefully over her knees. Taking a sip of the Martini, she said, ‘Hmmm,’ as she studied the shorthand. Then she put her drink down on the night table and groped for a cigarette. I held the lighter for her. She smiled, and nodded to the armchair near the end of the bed. ‘Please sit down.’

‘What about Murray?’ I said impatiently.

‘Broken jaw,’ she said, consulting her notes. ‘Mild concussion. Something or other to the something sinus—ethmoid, I think. Scalp lacerations. Various minor injuries. A hundred and fifty dollars’ damages to his camera and possibly two hundred to the furnishings of a motel room. He’s recovering satisfactorily, and the woman’s husband appears to have used a little influence to smooth it over and keep it hushed up. You might go to jail for any one of half a dozen misdemeanours if they could get their hands on you, but there’s no felony charge. Nothing they would extradite you for.’

I sighed with relief.

‘You apparently don’t care much for private detectives.’

‘I can contain my enthusiasm for them,’ I said. ‘Snoopy bastards. I had to have that film, anyway; and since I didn’t know how to get into a Speed Graphic, I opened it on his head.’

‘You were lucky it was no worse.’

I lit a cigarette. ‘Would you mind telling me who you are, and just what this is all about?’

‘I’ve already told you who I am,’ she replied, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Mrs. Marian Forsyth.’

‘And you’re a private secretary to some businessman in Louisiana,’ I said. ‘Don’t give me that.’

‘I am,’ she said. ‘Or was, rather. However, let me finish this dossier. Correct me if there are any errors. Your full name is Jerome Langston Forbes, you’re usually called Jerry, you’re twenty-eight, and you are from Texas—at least, originally. You’re single. You drink moderately but you gamble too much, and at least twice you’ve been involved in a messy affair with a married woman.