"Nobody on earth like Bobs," was his sole comment. "Never was, never will be."
"And now," I reminded him nervously, "there's the question of this alibi. You went straight from the restaurant to your room at the Palace and to bed there?"
"No-o," he said slowly. "No, I didn't."
"Well—well," I broke in. "If you stopped on the way, you can remember where. The people you spoke to will be as good as the clerks and bell-hops at the Palace for your alibi." He sat silent, thoughtful, and I added, "Where did you go from Tait's, Worth?"
"To a garage—in the Tenderloin—where they keep good cars. I'd hired machines from them before."
"Oh, they knew you there? Then their testimony will—"
"I don't believe you want it, Jerry. It only accounts for the half hour—or less—right after I left you; all I did was to hire a car."
"A car," I echoed vaguely. "What kind of a car? Hired it for when?"
"I asked them for the fastest thing they had in the shop. Told 'em to fill it all round, and see that it was tuned up to the last notch. I wanted speed."
"My God, Worth! Do you know what you're telling me?"