his right hand, meanwhile, had produced the next letter. His eyes moved only from sheet to sheet. “Did you tell your mother about the case you were on yesterday?”
“No, sir.”
The left hand passed a letter back to the right. The right hand dropped it in the waste basket. “What did you tell her?”
“I tol’ her I had a new job.”
“As a detective?”
“I was scared to tell her that. She ’d ’a’ thought it was the same as a policeman.”
“Well?” The left hand pressed a call button. “Suppose she did?”
“She ’d ’a’ thought I was goin’ to get killed.”
Babbing turned his head to look over his glasses at the boy. “Like your father?”
Barney smiled an apology for the absurdity of mothers. “Yes, sir.”
A clerk opened the door. Babbing tossed a letter across the table to him. “Find out who that fellow is. Right away.”
The clerk reported: “Mr. Snider has just
