“If Philip had used his brain,” I said, “that would have been the one clue which would have convinced him your disappearance had been planned in advance and financed. All right now, clear out of here. I want it so that no one can ever connect you with this apartment. Go out on the streets and start wandering around. Find a policeman. Ask him what town this is. Keep doing goofy things until someone picks you up, but whatever you do, don’t take a drink of anything.”
“Why?”
“Because if you have liquor on your breath, they’ll throw you in as a drunk. If you’re cold sober, and still act goofy, they’ll call in a doctor. The doctor may try to trap you. He may smell a rat. You’ve got to carry it through. Think you can do it?”
“I can try. I’d do anything.”
“Luck to you,” I said, and shook hands with her again.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to wait until you land in the hospital, and then I’m going to discover you. After that, I’m going to Las Vegas and report to Whitewell.”
She said, “You’re giving me a swell break, aren’t you?” I said, “I see no reason for throwing you overboard if I can bring the ship into port.”
Her eyes were searching mine, and she was smiling somewhat wistfully. “You’re trying to be tough and hard-boiled — and you’re just a romanticist at heart. You remind me of Philip.”
I started for the door. “Okay, try and be in the hospital by dark.”