“Then I suppose you’ll have to leave it.”
“I wish I could; the Americans are very upset.”
“Then let them solve it; they don’t seem to have any compunctio
ns about operating on your soil.”
“No, they don’t, do they?”
Stone didn’t say anything for a moment. “May I have my passport back, please?”
“Oh, yes.” Throckmorton stood up, took it from his pocket and handed it to Stone.
“And my raincoat?”
“No. That’s evidence. You’ll be returning to New York, then?”
“Yes, today.”
“Thank God,” Throckmorton said. “I hope you never come back.” He walked out of the room and the house without another word, followed by his detective, bumping into Mason as he entered the house. The two men exchanged a long glance, but said nothing to each other.
“Good morning,” Stone said to Mason. “Any news?”
“None I can give you,” Mason replied. “I’ve come for your car, your pen, and your button.”
“Oh, yes.” He had forgotten. He went into the kitchen, found a knife, and cut the button from his sleeve.
“What are you doing?” Dino asked.
“I’ll tell you later.” He went back into the drawing room and handed Mason the button, pen, and car keys.
“Thank you,” Mason said, then turned to go.
“There’s nothing you can tell me?” Stone asked.
“It’s not my place,” Mason replied. “Thank you for your assistance; you got your passport back?”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t delay leaving the country, if I were you.”
“I’ll be gone before sundown,” Stone replied.
“Yes, sundown; that’s when you Americans get out of town, isn’t it?”
“Only in Westerns.”
“Well, I suppose this has been a sort of Western, hasn’t it? Except we didn’t get the bad guy in the end.”
“Will you?”
“A personal opinion?”
“Sure.”
“We’ll get Morgan one of these days. As for Cabot, I doubt if Morgan can identify him, so we don’t actually have anything concrete on which to base a prosecution. And to tell you the truth, I doubt if my management would prosecute him if we did. This whole business has been terribly embarrassing for them, as well as for Carpenter and me.”
“I’m sorry,” Stone said.