"All right," he muttered. "I'm sort of crazy." There was a thick silence. "All right, let's try this as a last stunt."
"There's very little time," she reminded him. "Put something into a suitcase quickly — a suitcase that you can carry yourself — you don't want porters."
He moved at her bidding into the bedroom that led off the sitting-room, and began to fling things into a suitcase, while she put neat parcels of food into the pockets of the coat that hung behind the door.
"What's the good?" he said suddenly. "It's no use. How do you think I can take a main-line train out of London without being stopped and questioned?"
"You couldn't if you were alone," she said, "but with me it's a different matter. Look at me. Do I look the sort who would be helping you to get away?"
The man stood in the doorway contemplating her for a moment, and a sardonic smile twisted his mouth as he took her in all her upright orthodoxy. "I believe you're right," he said. He gave a short, mirthless laugh and thereafter put no difficulties in the way of her plans. In ten minutes they were ready for departure.
"Have you any money?" she asked.
"Yes," he said; "plenty."
She seemed about to ask a question.
"No, not that," he said. "My own."