More sounds. Finch; "I'm polite, that's all. When a visitor stands, I stand. Keep your credentials, Mr. Corrigan. I don't care how good they are. As far as I'm concerned you're a stranger trying to stick his nose into my business, and I'm not having any. Flying out here because you think a manuscript may be libelous-that sounds pretty damn fishy. You'll see no manuscript that's in my care. You'll have to-uuhie!"
That's the best I can do at spelling the sound he made. Other immediate sounds were not spellable at all, though fairly in-terpretable. One was surely a chair toppling. Another was feet moving heavily and swiftly. Others were grunts. Then came three in a row that were unmistakable: a fist or fists landing, and, right after, something that was heavier than a chair hitting the floor.
Finch: "Get up and try again."
A pause with sound effects.
Corrigan: "I lost my head."
Finch: "Not yet. You may next time. Going?"
That ended the dialogue. Corrigan had no exit line that he cared to use. The only sounds that came were footsteps and the opening and closing of the door, then more footsteps and another opening of the door, and, after a wait, its closing and the lock being turned. I stayed put until the closet door swung open without my touching it.
Finch' stood grinning. "Well?" he demanded.
"You're on the honors list," I told him. "This is my lucky week, first Mrs. Potter and now you. Where did you plug him?"
"Two body jabs and one on the side of the neck."
"How did he invite it?"
"He swung first and then tried to lock me. That wasn't much, but the strain of that talk, with you listening-I'm hungry. I want some lunch."
"You won't get any, not now, unless it's a sandwich in a taxi. It's your move. He'll see that manuscript or bust, and one will get you ten he's on his way to Mrs. Potter, who he thinks is stupid. You will get there first, if you step on it, and stay there. The address is twenty-eight-nineteen Whitecrest Avenue, Glendale. I'll phone her. Get going!"
"But what-"
"Scoot, damn it! Write me a letter."
He moved. He got hat and raincoat from the closet and was gone. I uprighted the chair that had toppled, straightened a rug, went to the closet for my shoes, and put them on. Then I sat in the armchair by the phone and called the Glendale number.
"Mrs. Potter? Archie Goo-"
"Did he come?"
