I was looking in on a last act, I knew; the first had started long ago when Win Scofield met her in some cabaret and she decided to marry him. She might have been Keeban's woman then, I thought; and he, hearing her plan, had told her to go ahead. Or perhaps he had made the plan for her, marking up Win Scofield on his board then; and to-night old Win's number had come to the top.
I went down the street to my car and started the engine and kept it going to be ready while I watched. Ten minutes past eleven, I saw a light in Win Scofield's garage; a black car came out and a girl got into it. I waited until it was in the street and then, stepping on my gas, I charged up the road and gave that black car all I had.
It went into the curb and smashed a wheel and bent the axle too. I wrecked my front, naturally. Shirley Scofield's driver was out yelling at me; he turned and opened the door of his car sitting in a corner. Youth snapping her chains wasn't there. A scared girl was, you'd think; but she wasn't scared. Not she! She was merely pretending to be frightened, while she sat there mighty quiet and trying to size me up.
