The Cuban said, “Maybe you’d better go, too,” and turned away.
Fenner stood thinking, then he snapped his fingers and left. He ran through the lobby, out into the black night. A cab shot up to the entrance and the driver swung the door open. Fenner said, “Waterfront, fast,” and climbed into the cab.
Although the cab went fast, Thayler was already on board the Nancy W. when Fenner arrived. Fenner saw the light in the cabin flash as he paid off the cab driver. He looked hastily up and down the deserted waterfront, then ran along the jetty and climbed on board. Moving quietly, he reached the cabin. By lying full length, he could look down through the glass panel which was half open.
Glorie was standing in the middle of the cabin, rubbing her wrist and looking at Thayler, who was leaning against the door. “It’s time we had a showdown,” he said. His voice came quite clearly to Fenner. “I’ve been a sucker long enough.”
Glorie turned her back on him. “Once I get out of here,” she said unevenly, “I never want to see you again.”
Thayler went over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. His hands shook so that the liquor slopped on the polished surface. “I’ve done a hell of a lot for you,” he said. “It’s always the same. I know you’re like that, but can’t you try? That’s what gets me, you don’t even try.”
Glorie moved round the room. She reminded Fenner of a caged animal.
“I’m sorry for you,” Thayler said.
She spun round. “You’re crazy. Do you think your sorrow means anything to me?”
“No one’s sorrow has ever meant anything to you. You haven’t any feeling, anyway.”