“All right,” he said, at last, and Donnelly got in beside him.
The cab set off, splashing through the melted snow—going back again to that infernal garage. Suppose Donnelly hung about all day?
“Where do you want to get out?” he demanded.
“To tell you the truth,” said Donnelly, “I was waiting for you.”
“Waiting! But—”
“I sort of thought you might be coming to the station some time to-day,” 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.”