“It was horrible,” Miss Wonderly said, trying to smile. “I couldn’t sit there

like that—waiting—not knowing what had happened to her, what might be happening

to her.” She stopped trying to smile. She shuddered. “The only address I had was

General Delivery. I wrote her another letter, and yesterday afternoon I went to

the Post Office. I stayed there until after dark, but I didn’t see her. I went

there again this morning, and still didn’t see Corinne, but I saw Floyd

Thursby.”

 

Spade nodded again. His frown went away. In its place came a look of sharp

attentiveness.

 

“He wouldn’t tell me where Corinne was,” she went on, hopelessly. “He wouldn’t

tell me anything, except that she was well and happy. But how can I believe

that? That is what he would tell me anyhow, isn’t it?”

 

“Sure,” Spade agreed. “But it might be true.”

 

“I hope it is. I do hope it is,” she exclaimed. “But I can’t go back home like

this, without having seen her, without even having talked to her on the phone.

He wouldn’t take me to her. He said she didn’t want to see me. I can’t believe

that. He promised to tell her he had seen me, and to bring her to see me—if she

would come—this evening at the hotel. He said he knew she wouldn’t. He promised

to come himself if she wouldn’t. He—”

 

She broke off with a startled hand to her mouth as the door opened.