Langston is out front now, getting some gas.”

The foremen shook his head.

“Who’s Mrs. Langston?” I asked.

“She runs the Magnolia Lodge, east of town.”

“Well, what’s the matter with that?”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He puzzled me. “Is something wrong with it?” I asked.

“I guess not. It’s run-down and there’s no pool, but where you stay is your own business, the way I look at it.”

Just then the name clicked. I was almost sure it was the same one. Rather than fish it out of my wallet, however, I merely picked up the two bags, said “Thanks,” and walked out front to the driveway. I was right. She was standing beside an old station wagon taking some money from her purse.

I walked over and put down the suitcase. “Mrs. Langston?”

She glanced around and gave me a brief smile. “Oh, hello,” she said. And all at once I realized what it was about her face that had struck me before. It was tired. Simply that. It was a slender and rather attractive face with good bone structure, but there was an almost unfathomable weariness far back in the fine gray eyes.

“I understand you run a motel,” I said.

She nodded. “That’s right.””If you have a vacancy, I’d like to ride out with you.”

“Yes, of course. Just put your bags in the back.”

The boy brought her change and we drove off back down the main street. I hoped if Frankie was still in town with his panel truck we’d see him in time to take the station wagon apart and hide it.

“When will your car be ready?” she asked, as we paused for a traffic light.

“Day after tomorrow,” I said. “By the way, I want to thank you again.”

“You’re quite welcome,” she said. The light changed and we went on.

I turned and looked at her. She had dark reddish-brown hair in a long bob just off her shoulders, and a rather creamy complexion, though she wore no make-up except a touch of lipstick. The mouth was nice. Her cheekbones were high and prominent, giving an impression of faint hollows below them and adding to that general suggestion of being underweight and overstrained and tired. It was the face of a mature woman, and there was strength in it. Her wedding and engagement rings looked expensive, but the rest of her outfit failed to match them. The dress was a cheap hand-me-down and the sandals were old and beat-up. She had nice long legs, but wore no stockings.

On the right, just beyond the city limits, was the Spanish Main motel. It had a large pool set among colored umbrellas in front. It looked cool and blue in the white glare of the sun, and I remembered what he’d said about the Magnolia’s not having one.