The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett

For all of five minutes after the outer door had closed behind Casper Gutman and Joel Cairo, Spade, motionless, stood staring at the knob of the open living-room-door. His eyes were gloomy under a forehead drawn down. The clefts at the root of his nose were deep and red. His hips protruded loosely, pouting. He drew them in to make a hard v and went to the telephone. He had not looked at Brigid O'Shaughnessy, who stood by the table hooking with uneasy eyes at him.

He picked up the telephone, set it on its shelf again, and bent to look into the telephone-directory hanging from a corner of the shelf. He turned the pages rapidiy until he found the one he wanted, ran his finger down a column, straightened up, and lifted the telephone from the shelf again. He called a number and said: "Hello, is Sergeant Polhaus there?. Will you call him, please? This is Samuel Spade He stared into space, waiting. "Hello, Tom, I've got something for you. Yes, plenty. Here it is: Thursby and Jacobi were shot by a kid named Wilmer Cook. " He described the boy minutely. "He's working for a man named Casper Gutman. " He described Gutman. "That fellow Cairo you met here is in with-i them too. Yes, that's it. Gutman's staving at the Alexandria, suite twelve C, or was. They've just left here and they're blowing town, so you'll have to move fast, but I don't think they're expecting a pinch. There's a girl in it too-Gutman's daughter. " He described Rhea Gutman. "WTatch yourself when you go up against the kid. He's supposed to be pretty good with the gun. That's right, Tom, and I've got some stuff here for you. I think I've got the guns he used. That's right. Step on it-and luck to you! "Spade slowly replaced receiver on prong, telephone on shelf. He wet his lips and hooked down at his hands. Their palms were wet. He filledhis deep chest with air. His eyes were glittering between straightened lids. He turned and took three long swift steps into the living-room.