He walked across to where a car was parked. A man jumped out and pulled the rear door open.
Kleinsmidt saw that I got in first, tossed the bag in, and climbed in beside me.
“Let’s go,” he said to the driver.
We slid into smooth motion out from the railroad grounds in a wide, sweeping turn, up to the highway, and across a bridge. It was warmer inside the car, but there was the nearness of the stars the vast space of the desert stretching away on each side, in front and behind, gave one a feeling of cold insignificance.
I said to Kleinsmidt, “Nice weather we’re having.”
“Isn’t it.”
“What’s the idea? Am I being charged with some crime?”
“You’re just going back, that’s all.”
“If I’m not charged with anything, you haven’t any authority to take me off a train and take me back.”
“That may he. However, the chief said to bring you back, and you’re going back.”