CHAPTER TWOUrgent
“You mean you think there’s anything crazy about that letter?”
Gamadge’s tone was flat and incredulous. He had not taken the clients’ chair in his friend Macloud’s law office, but had pulled up a hard straight one, and was sitting on Macloud’s right, across the corner of the desk. He had taken his cigarette out of his mouth, and was pointing with it at some papers laid out on the blotter.
There was an envelope that had been through the mails; it was addressed to Gamadge in a firm, clear hand. There were two crossword-diagrams, one entirely filled in with pencilled letters, the other partially so. There was a typed, punctuated transcript of their message. There was a sheet of notepaper, covered with Gamadge’s scrawled writing.
“Fifty-fifty,” said Macloud, “but we have
