A moment later, the long, hoarse whistle of the new paper mill in Ippingford warned him that time was passing.
"What! Twelve o'clock!" He listened. "This won't do. We must get a move on. I'll just fish this out, and then we'll hustle back."
He started to reach down into the golf bag, but Hester stopped him.
"Wait!" she ordered. "You say we'll watch each other. You're dead right, we will. And I want to know who's going to keep that purse if you take it out of the bag?"
"Don't be a fool! We'll divide the money and you can keep the purse for a souvenir."
"When will we divide the money?"
"As soon as we get to the garage."
"Why not now?"
He shook his head impatiently. "Because I'm late. Didn't you hear that whistle? Do you want to get me in bad with Baxter?"
She hesitated, watching him keenly. "Don't try to get gay with me, boy, for I'll do you up, sure. You know I've got something on you now."