CHAPTER 13Different Now
Gamadge wondered for a moment after Drummond came in why he seemed like a stranger, then decided that it was because he looked on the point of exhaustion. Gamadge had never seen him even slightly, healthily tired before. After thirty-six holes of golf, or a tremendous climb in the woods, he had always been as fresh as a daisy and ready for anything. He had never been the one to want the evening bridge or poker game broken up, the club dance over.
Now his step dragged, his big shoulders drooped, his face was expressionless, sagging with fatigue. He looked bleakly at Griggs.
“I hope you won’t insist on asking my wife any questions tonight, Lieutenant,” he said, and there was no truculence in the tone. He spoke slowly, carefully, drearily. “I know this is a very bad
