The driver looked at Norman. But he did not say, "Whatcha wanta know for?"—for which Norman was grateful. He seemed to decide that Norman was O. K.
He said, "I can't be sure, mister, but there was a local bus going down the shore. I think she got on that."
"Would it stop at Bayport?"
The driver nodded.
"How long since it left?"
"About twenty minutes."
"Could I get to Bayport ahead of it? If I took a cab?"
"Just about. If you wanted to pay the bill there and back—and maybe a little extra for the rubber he'd burn—I think Alec could take you." He waved in casual recognition at a man sitting in a cab just beyond the station. "Mind you, mister, I can't say for certain she got on the shore bus."
"That's all right. Thanks a lot."
In the glow of the street lamp Alec's foxy eyes were more openly curious than the bus driver's, but he did not make any comments.