“Of course, the climate. What else would I be sticking around this dump for?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I guess you wouldn’t. Go ahead and get your train.”
“Don’t tell the Whitewells where I’ve gone until after the train leaves.”
“What will I tell them?”
“Tell them I’m out making another investigation. I’ll!eave a note at the desk for you, telling you I have decided to take the train to Los Angeles, and you can wait here for me. I’ll leave word to have the note delivered at nine-thirty, or you can ring up the office and ask if I left any message for you when I don’t show up.”
She said, “Mr. Whitewell may not like this.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “He may not.”
She stared at me again as though trying to read my mind, then turned away with a gesture of irritation.
I unlocked the door, walked quickly down to my room, and tossed my wardrobe into a light handbag. Experience with Bertha had taught me the advisability of being able to travel with nothing more bulky than one light bag. I still had half an hour to kill. I killed it studying the letter and thinking back over conversations.