We shook hands and smiled, both pretending to be honest men. I didn't believe him, and he didn't believe me. It was a quarter to five when I got back to the office. I had a couple of short drinks, and then the phone rang. A woman's voice said, 'Carmady?' It was a small, cold voice. I didn't know it. "Yeah." "You need to see Rush Madder. Know him? "No," I lied. "Why should I see him?' There was a laugh like the sound of breaking ice. "Because of a guy who had sore feet,' the voice said. The call ended. I put the phone down, lit a match and stared at the wall until I burned my fingers. Rush Madder was a crook in the Quorn Building, He was a lawyer who did dirty work, anything that smelled a little and paid a little more. But burning people's feet didn't sound like Rush Madder's kind of business to me.