“I sort of thought you might be coming to the station some time today,” said the other, tranquilly, “and I waited. Wanted a little talk with you.”
“What about?”
“Well, it’s this. I told you I was looking for a man called Ives.”
“And I told you I didn’t—”
“Now, hold on a minute! You told me you’d never heard of him. All right. Now, I told you I knew Ives came out to Stamford on Tuesday. That was about all I did know—this morning. But I’ve found out a little more since then.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” asked Ross, with a surly air and a sinking heart.
“That’s just what I don’t know. On Wednesday you came to Mr. Solway’s house. You didn’t bring anything with you, and you haven’t sent for any bag or trunk, or anything like that. Now, hold on! Just wait a minute! You said you’d come from Cren’s Agency, I’m told. But Cren’s Agency told me on the telephone that— Now, hold on! Don’t lose your temper! You can clear this up easy enough. Just show me your license. Haven’t got it with you, I suppose?”
“No!” said Ross.
“All right. You’ve left it in the garage. Very well. That’s where you’re going now, isn’t it? Unless—” He paused. “Unless you’d like to come along with me.”
“Come—where?” asked Ross.