“She’s not going to be in my car. You brought her this far — you can keep her.”
“I brought her!” Shayne stopped short, staring at the ironical smile twitching Rourke’s thin lips. “Who’s gagging now?”
“By God, I’m not,” Rourke told him with passionate sincerity. “You might’ve told me you’d changed your mind and were taking her away yourself. But, no, you have to be funny.”
Shayne’s hands caught Rourke’s shoulders again and clamped down hard. In a strangled voice he demanded, “What are you getting at, Tim? For God’s sake—”
“You ought to know. She wasn’t there.”
Slowly Shayne’s fingers relaxed. “Do you mean — she wasn’t there when you went back?” he asked hollowly.
“You’re beginning to get it,” Rourke responded. “Didn’t you sneak her out?”
Shayne shook his head dismally. “I was busy decoying a couple of birds who tailed me from the hotel.”
The two men stood and stared at each other for a long moment, then Shayne went into action. He grabbed Rourke’s arm and steered him toward the barroom.
“I’m either drunk or desperately in need of a drink,” he said solemnly. “I’ve got to find out.”