I don’t know how I could have been so stupid as not to realize that was the way it would look. What else could you think?”

I was uncomfortable. “I’d like to forget it,” I said, “if you could. But what in the name of God did you do it for?”

She hesitated. “I’d hoped I would have more time to make up my mind before I told you. If I told you at all. But you were too observant.”

“Make up your mind about what?”

Her eyes met mine simply. “About you.”

“Why?” I asked.

She stood up. It was obvious she was under a strain. “Would you—excuse me a minute? I’d like to change, and maybe if I had a chance to think—”

“Sure,” I said. She went out. I sat down and lit a cigarette. There was no use trying to guess what it was all about, or what she really wanted. I thought of the two men who had just left. There was something deep and probably quite dangerous going on under the surface here, but I couldn’t see what I had to do with it.

I switched back to her, and as usual I couldn’t get my thoughts sorted out. I was conscious of being happy about something, and in a moment I realized it was simply knowing I’d been wrong about the whole thing. That made no sense at all, of course. Maybe I ought to see a psychiatrist, I thought sourly.

She came out in a few minutes, dressed and looking as smooth as ever. She had put on fresh make-up, and the ugly redness was gone from the side of her face. She touched it gently.

“I want to thank you again,” she said. “I don’t know how much more of it I could have taken.”

I stood up. “Then you do know where he is?”

She nodded quietly.

I began to understand then what she had been trying to make up her mind about. But I still didn’t see why. What did they want with me? We went out. She locked the door and we walked out to the car.

She got behind the wheel, but made no move to turn on the ignition. She slipped around facing me, with her elbow on the back of the seat. It was very quiet, and her face was deadly serious. She had made up her mind.

I gave her a cigarette and lit it, and lit one for myself. I dropped the lighter back in my pocket.

“There’s one thing,” I said. “Maybe I don’t want to know where he is.”

She gave me a quick glance.