"Your legs are too big," I told her. "They put too much strain on the material."
"That'll do out of you. What's your idea of how to go about purifying our village?"
"If I haven't been lied to, Thaler, Pete the Finn, Lew Yard and Noonan are the men who've made Poisonville the sweet-smelling mess it is. Old Elihu comes in for his share of the blame, too, but it's not all his fault, maybe. Besides, he's my client, even if he doesn't want to be, so I'd like to go easy on him.
"The closest I've got to an idea is to dig up any and all the dirty work I can that might implicate the others, and run it out. Maybe I'll advertise—Crime Wanted—Male or Female. If they're as crooked as I think they are I shouldn't have a lot of trouble finding a job or two that I can hang on them."
"Is that what you were up to when you uncooked the fight?"
"That was only an experiment—just to see what would happen."
"So that's the way you scientific detectives work. My God! for a fat, middle-aged, hard-boiled, pig-headed guy, you've got the vaguest way of doing things I ever heard of."
"Plans are all right sometimes," I said. "And sometimes just stirring things up is all right—if you're tough enough to survive, and keep your eyes open so you'll see what you want when it comes to the top."
"That ought to be good for another drink," she said.
