The attendant grinned, and shook his head. “Not with the regular clients. Not with a guy like Dover Fulton you wouldn’t. If he sent some babe down after the car, you’d not go over and ask any questions, not if she had the car keys.”
“How did you know she wasn’t making off with the car?”
“They don’t do that. Not in this locality. But I know it was okay. She had one of Dover Fulton’s cards with an ‘OK’ scrawled on it.”
“How do you know?”
“She gave it to me when she went out. I wouldn’t have stopped her, but she waved the card at me.”
“Let’s take a look.”
The attendant said, “I don’t know where I put it. I knew it was all right. Wait a minute, I think I stuck it in the bottom of the cash register. I remember now, I did.”
He went over and opened the cash register, pulled up the weight which held the notes in place in the cash drawer and took out one of Dover Fulton’s cards. On the back of it was simply written the initials “OK.”
Sellers looked at him pityingly. “This Fulton’s handwriting?”
“I presume so. It’s his card.”