“Now I’ll tell you something, Thrip. I have a license to practice my profession just the same as you do. It’s a hell of a lot harder to get a detective’s license than a realty broker’s, and a damn sight harder to keep one. I’m responsible to the state of Florida for any man I send out on a job. If you’ve got a proposition to make, I’ll listen to it and decide whether it’s something I want to take on. I’ve been picking my cases for years, and when I get in trouble I walk into it with my eyes open and I’ll take the consequences. I don’t play any other way.”

“But-er-can I trust you to keep what I say in strict confidence should you-er-decide against taking the case?”

Shayne straightened from his hunched position. In a cold voice he said, “If you don’t think you can trust me you’d better find another detective.”

“I do trust you. If I can have your assurance that you will treat this-er-confidentially.”

Shayne said, “No,” angrily. “If you’re planning a murder you’d better not tell me about it.” He reached for his hat but the realtor stopped him with uplifted palm and a forced laugh.

“A murder? Oh, no. Nothing quite so violent, I assure you. The-er-deception I propose will not be directed at any individual. I’m sure you will have no qualms about undertaking it when you hear me out.”

Shayne frowned, then dropped back into his chair. “I’m listening.”

“It’s a matter of business necessity,” Thrip explained haltingly. “What I require of your operative entails no danger whatsoever-no criminal act on his part, in fact. As I have explained, I merely wish him to force an entry, leaving distinct traces behind him. Once inside he will go upstairs to my wife’s room where he will discover her jewel case on the vanity dresser. I want him to carry the case away with him-and to create some commotion so the house will be aroused and his getaway observed by witnesses to testify to it. He will be in no danger, for I possess the only firearm in the house. Is that clear enough, Mr. Shayne?”