"But—" replied the man.
"But me no buts. It's late, Tim."
Tim? Tim? That would probably be Timothy Fisher. He ran the local garage where Mrs. Bagley bought her car. James went on listening shamelessly.
"Late? Phooey. When is eleven-thirty late?"
"When it's right now," she replied with a light laugh. "Now, Tim. It's been very—"
There came a long silence.
Her voice was throaty when the silence broke. "Now, will you go?"
"Of course," he said.
"Not that way, silly," she said. "The door's behind you."
"Isn't the door I want," he chuckled.