“Come on, baby, don’t be shy.” She sidled up to him.
“Get out of my way!” Ken said desperately. He put his hand on her arm and pushed her aside.
“Hey! Don’t put your hands on me, you cheap bum!” the girl cried, and as Ken ran into the street, she started to yell abuse after him.
III
Rain was still falling as Ken hurried along the glistening sidewalk. The air was cooler, and overhead the black storm clouds were breaking up. From time to time the moon appeared and disappeared as the clouds moved across the sky, driven by the brisk wind.
Ken was thinking: Those two will know me again. They will give the police my description. Every newspaper will carry the description.
But why should anyone connect me with Fay? I had no motive for killing her. It’s the motive that gives the police a lead. Without a motive, they can get nowhere. She was a prostitute. The murder of a prostitute is always the most difficult case to solve. But supposing Sweeting or the girl happens to come to the bank? He turned cold at the thought. Would they recognize me? Would they know me without a hat ? They wouldn’t expect to see me in a bank. But I must watch out. If I see them come in, I can always leave my till and get out of sight.
I must watch out.
He realized the horror of his future. He would always have to be on his guard; always on the look-out for these two. Not for a week or a month, but for as long as he remained at the bank.
The realization of his position brought him to a sudden halt. He stood on the edge of the kerb, staring blankly down the wet street, his mind crawling with alarm.