“Did you say Ropes was waiting for you outside?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And my car's still in the garage where I put it?”
“Yes; but you're not in a fit state for a journey. If you could see yourself—”
“Oh, I know I'm a nightmare apparition,” I cut in; “but when I'm shaved and—”
“The trip would kill you.”
“It would kill me not to take it.”
We looked at each other for a moment, then Dick said—
“All right. Come on. I know what you feel. But what about that old reprobate upstairs?”
“I'll wait for you here while you take up some food and leave it in the room. We can't waste time in Granada on his account. I'll tell my story, and you can tell yours to the police in Madrid, after I—after I've done what I'm going there to do.”