Hale laughed. “He’s a wise owl all right, Mrs. Cool, but even an owl blinks once in a while. This is the one slip he’s made, and—”
Bertha interrupted, looking hard at me, “Owls don’t blink.”
Pellingham came hurrying toward us, a telegram in his hand, his lips tight. “Lam, did you take a plane from Fort Worth Saturday night?”
“Why?” I asked,
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Lam. I’m going to ask you to go to headquarters with me — at once.”
I said, “I’m sorry. I’ve got other things to do. They’re important.”
“I don’t give a damn what you’ve got to do. You’re coming with me.”
“Got any authority for that?”