Maybe we could get a fee out of Mrs.
Rivers."
"I'd thought of that. Unfortunately, Mrs. Rivers had a very convenient
breakdown, when she heard the news; she is now in a hospital in New York,
and won't be back until after the funeral. Prostrated with grief. Or
something. And this case is due to blow up like Hiroshima before then.
Well, we can't get fees from everybody." That, of course, was one of the
sad things of life to which one must reconcile oneself. "I got a call
from Pierre Jarrett; Tip's staying at the Jarrett place tonight. I
thought it would be a good idea to have him within reach for a while."
The private outside phone rang shrilly. Ritter let it go for several
rings, then picked it up.
"This is the Fleming residence," he stated, putting on his character
again. "Oh, yes indeed, sir. Colonel Rand is right here, sir; I'll tell
him you're calling." He put a hand over the mouthpiece. "Humphrey Goode."
Rand took the phone and named himself into it.
"I would like to talk to you privately, Colonel Rand," the lawyer said.
"On a subject of considerable importance to our, shall I say, mutual
clients. Could you find time to drop over, sometime this evening?"
"Well, I'm very busy, at the moment, Mr.
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