Fenner went over to the floor lamp, put it on, and turned off the ceiling lamp. The light was softer, but it lit up the floor brightly. He saw two little red marks on his carpet which hadn’t been there before. He looked at the red marks and then he looked at Glorie’s shoes. He moved further into the room. There were red marks on the shoes, as if Glorie had stepped in something. Without picking the shoes up, Fenner couldn’t be sure. He knew pretty well the marks were bloodstains, but he didn’t want her to know he’d seen them just yet.
She giggled suddenly. “I’m really in a risky position, aren’t I? I mean you could . . .
Fenner pulled up a chair near the bed and sat down. He put his feet on the bed and tilted the chair back. “What makes you think I’d want to?” he said casually.
She giggled again. “Everybody wants to,” she said. She said it as if she meant it.
“All right, all right. Let’s suppose that’s true,” Fenner said. “But why have you come here?”
“It’s you. You said Haworth. You said you wanted to talk. I came here and waited. I got tired of waiting, so I got into bed. I thought you wouldn’t come back tonight.”
“When did you come here?”
“What do you mean—when?” Her slaty eyes went a little cold.
“What time?”
“Nine o’clock. I waited until eleven and then I went to bed.”