A heavy-bodied man stood up behind a big tidy desk as Shayne entered. Three telephones were arranged in a row before him. A freshly lit cigar lay across an onyx ash tray.

Arnold Thrip wore a white suit of silk pongee molded to a short thick body, ingeniously tailored to give him an air of more height and less weight than God had bestowed upon him. Iron-gray hair was carefully parted in the middle, thick jowls showed blue-gray from a recent close shave. His upper lip was short, the lower lip thick and pendulous, giving an effect of petulance, though this was nullified by the strength and severity of a blunt jaw and short, broad nose. His eyes were light brown and slightly bulging.

Shayne’s first and strongest impression was one of latent power and of blunt-spoken dominance. A man who had always known what he wanted and who generally managed to get it.

Thrip stood flat-footed behind his desk and inclined his head some five degrees. “The detective, eh? Sit down, Mr. Shayne.” His manner was curtly cordial, his voice held the resonance of an assured after-dinner speaker.

Shayne tossed his hat onto a filing-cabinet. Loose-limbed, he stalked to the realtor’s desk and folded himself down into a straight-backed chair.

Mr. Thrip sat down and placed the palms of smooth hands flat down on the desk top. He said:

“I called you, Mr. Shayne, because I heard you highly recommended by our Miami Beach chief of detectives last night. You’re acquainted with Mr. Painter, of course.”

Shayne nodded and hooked spatulate thumbs in his belt, tilted back in his chair. He crossed one bony knee over the other and his face creased into a smile that was more sardonic than humorous. “That’s a new angle for Painter, recommending me for a case. I was under the impression that he hated my guts.”

“Quite right.” Arnold Thrip did not smile. Shayne wondered if he could smile.

“I overheard Mr. Painter discussing private detectives,” Thrip went on, “and their function in modern society at a meeting of the Beach Betterment Association last night. He cited you as a particularly vicious example of the worst of your class. I gathered from his remarks that there is little you would refuse to undertake-for a price.”