Sam Spade

Personally, I'm crazy about money.

Mad money, pin money, or dirty money.

Your employer didn't happen to leave any line around, did he?

I thanked her as gallantly as I could under the circumstances.

She said, wait here, I won't be a minute.

And while she was gone, I made a quick frisk of the office.

The file cabinet was empty.

Griason's desk contained nothing but two unsharpened pencils, tobacco crumbs, a rubber band, some rusty paper clips, an old gas bill, a glass ampule, broken, labeled sodium denadrine for intravenous injection, and a business card from one Roscoe Manning, attorney at law.

I stuck the card in my pocket, went back to the switchboard, and in less time than it takes to tell, I was calling her Lois and she was calling me Sam over cocktails for two.

When was the last time you saw him?

You haven't heard from him in all that time?

And that's the last time you saw Grayson, huh?

That Grayson swiped his invention.

I didn't even believe in the invention.

Now I'm beginning to think it was worth stealing.

What else has he invented?

Just exactly what is your job?

Yeah.

Look, sweetheart, you really mean to tell me it never occurred to you that there might be something slightly fishy about Grierson Enterprises?

Because there's a smell of red herring up there.