A savage little tale of gunmen, betrayal, deceit and violence, told with Hammett's gritty realism in full flight. One of his very best, combining his strong sense of narrative, his grimly witty dialogue and his eye for human frailty. Told through the largely amoral eye of the Continental Op, its an excellent read.
"A curtain whipped loose in the rain.
Out of the opening came pale fire-streaks. The bitter voice of a small-caliber pistol. Seven times.
The Whosis Kid's wet hat floated off his head--a slow balloon-like rising.
There was nothing slow about the Kid's moving.
Plunging, in a twisting swirl of coat-skirts, he flung into a shop vestibule.
The Cadillac reached the next corner, made a dizzy sliding turn, and was gone up Franklin Street. I pointed the coupe at it."
"'I do not know what to think,' he said slowly. 'If I have been wrong--I must find the Kid first. Then I will learn the truth.'
"You don't have to look no further, brother. I'm right among you!'
The Whosis Kid stood in the passageway door. A black revolver was in each of his hands. Their hammers were up."
"I didn't think it was exactly genteel of the Kid to frisk her, but there were several reasons why I didn't try to stop him. First I didn't want to do anything to delay the unearthing of this 'stuff' there had been so much talk about. Second, I'm no Galahad. This woman had picked her playmates and was largely responsible for this angle of their game. If they played rough, she'd have to make the best of it."
