One of the four men she had met yesterday saw her in the telephone booth, and heard her say, “I’ll come, Mrs. Maker.”
He was frightened to feel his teeth chattering; when he clenched them, the muscles in his cheeks twitched. He went out of the hotel, and along the street, looking for a place to get a drink. A place to be alone.
I mustn’t walk too fast, he thought. But when he walked slowly, he thought that was more conspicuous. They notice strangers in a little one-horse place like this. I need a drink. A drink will steady my nerves, and then I can think.
This is serious. This is—this could be—dangerous. This needs strong nerves and a clear head. Only it’s been a bad day.… I feel—pretty well shot to pieces… They’re after me now, all right. They’re almost up with me. I wish to God I coul
