“It just happens they are important and in danger,” Conrad said shortly. “I’ll be away until Thursday. I’m sorry, Janey, but there it is.”
She went over to the wardrobe and took out a wrap.
“All right, if you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go,” she said indifferently. “It won’t make much difference to me. It’s not as if I see all that much of you. Where are you going?”
“I’ll write the address down,” Conrad said, taking out his bill-fold and finding an old envelope. “It’s out near Butcher’s Wood. And listen, Janey, this is important, no one but you may know where I’ve gone. Don’t tell anyone, do you understand?”
“Who am I going to tell, do you imagine?” Janey said scornfully, slipping into her wrap. “You talk as if I’m surrounded by people instead of being left alone night after night in this dreary house.”
“There’s no need to talk nonsense,” Conrad said curtly. “You have dozens of friends, and you know it. It’s just that you’re not interested to entertain people at home. You prefer to be taken out.”
“Who the hell wants to cook and wash up when one can go out?” Janey snapped.
Conrad put the envelope in a small drawer in the dressing-table.
“I’d better throw some things in a bag,” he said, side-tracking the way to an inevitable row.
“And who are these precious witnesses you have to take care of?” Janey asked, sitting down before the dressing-table again. “A woman — I bet.”