Candida went to the other side of the desk and dropped into a sling chair. She lit a cigarette which she took from a box on Begley’s desk, using a tall desk lighter.

“Hal, having Shayne there only makes it official. We’ve known you were in for a grilling. I think the tactic we decided to follow is still perfectly sound. United States Chemical is moving up the announcement of the new paint to next Tuesday morning. I’m sorry the Despard people found out, but we expected it, after all. How can they hurt us, Hal, seriously?”

“You did a great job on it, baby. Great all the way. But there’s four days between now and Tuesday. We can be hurt, believe me.”

“I really don’t see how.” She frowned at the toe of her shoe, which was swinging in a short arc. “I’m not trying to be superoptimistic. If we get past the Tuesday announcement without publicity, United States owes us an extra thirty thousand. Conceivably we might lose that. But in the long run there’s no such thing as bad publicity for us. There may be some tut-tutting. We may draw a couple of disapproving editorials. But the next time some company needs a piece of trade information and can’t get hold of it through regular channels, they’ll think of us.”

“Not if Despard gets out an injunction.”

“Hal, be reasonable. United States changed the formula enough so there can’t be an action for infringement. Two companies were simply working on parallel lines. They both came up with a new kind of house paint that won’t peel or blister, and United States, which is faster-moving, more aggressive and less conservative, got its product on the market first. It’s that simple. Everybody in the paint business will know where they got their information. Proving it in court is another matter entirely.”

“I hope you’re right,” Begley said. “But what if some clever bastard like Shayne gets our man to sign a confession?”