Tony Walker

However, in the sitting-room, in the lamplight, it was possible to get more of an idea.

She was a little older than I'd thought, and her eyes were too close together.

Of course, she wasn't a... how shall I put it?

Her manners weren't quite easy, and she was careful with her English, you know.

But that wasn't it.

She treated us with a lack of friendliness which was, well, we'd done nothing to deserve it.

there was a sort of vague hostility and suspicion which seemed rather hard lines considering also she was so anxious to keep in the shadow that if i hadn't moved the lamp away she'd never have got to the fire at all

And the way she hurried the wretched Williams over his drink was quite distressing, and foolish too, as he was going to drive.

But that was her funnel.

When he'd gone out to start up his engine, I asked her if she was all right for money, and she apparently was.

Then they started off, and I shut up the place and went upstairs.

There happened to be a local guide-book in my bedroom with maps in it.

I looked at these and couldn't help wondering where the girl in the car had come from.

I mean, my road seemed so very unimportant.

The sort of road one might use if one wanted to avoid people.

If one were driving a stolen car, for instance.

This was quite a thrilling idea.

I thought it might be worth while having another look at the car, so I once more unhooked the key from the kitchen dresser and sallied forth into the snow.

It was as black as pitch, and so still that my candle hardly flickered.

It wasn't a large garage, and the car nearly filled it.