“This isn’t just a summer night,” Madeline said shortly, “and you know darned well it isn’t. How did I know — anyway, you haven’t even got a jacket on.”
“I know I haven’t. What time is it?”
I aimed the light at my wrist and told her. “Five past eleven.”
“Then he didn’t come on that train, either.”
“Who didn’t?” Madeline asked.
“Who do you suppose?” Gwenn was pent up. “That dangerous criminal! Oh, I suppose he is. All right, he is. But I wasn’t going to cross him off without telling him first, and not on the phone or in a letter, either. I phoned him to come here.”
“Sure,” Madeline said, not like a loving sister. “So you could make him tell you who X is and make him reform.”
“Not me,” Gwenn declared. “Reforming is your department. I was simply going to tell him we’re through — and good-by. I merely preferred to do it that way, before telling Dad and the rest of you. He was coming up on the nine-twenty-three and taxi from the station and meet me here. I thought he had missed it — and now I guess he didn’t get the next one either — but there’s a — what time is it?”
I told her. “Nine minutes after eleven.”
“There’s a train at eleven-thirty-two, and I’ll wait for that and then quit. I don’t usually wait around for a man for two hours, but this is different. You admit that, don’t you, Mad?”