Free Mr. Moto Is So Sorry by John P. Marquand

have done better,” said Calvin Gates.
    She leaned nearer to him so that their shoulders touched.
    â€œWhere’s that cigarette case?” she said.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter,” he said.
    â€œOh yes, it does,” she answered. “You’d better tell me or I won’t stop talking.”
    â€œIt’s in my pocket,” Calvin said. She was startled. Her eyes were suddenly wide and incredulous.
    â€œDon’t say any more,” said Calvin Gates.
    Miss Dillaway’s voice was low.
    â€œYou don’t care much what happens to you, do you, Gates?” she said.
    Calvin Gates smiled at her. “No,” he answered, “not very much.”
    Miss Dillaway squared her shoulders.
    â€œI knew there was something the matter with you the first time I saw you. What did you keep it for?”
    â€œNo good reason,” he said. “He asked me to, that’s all.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe Russian.”
    â€œOh he did, did he?” said Miss Dillaway. “Well, why did you do what he asked you?”
    Calvin Gates frowned and looked at the freckles on the back of his hands.
    â€œWell,” said Miss Dillaway, “you haven’t answered, Gates.”
    He turned to her again as though he had forgotten her and her question.
    â€œFrankly, it’s a little hard to answer,” he said, “but I suppose you ought to have some sort of explanation.”
    â€œThank you,” said Miss Dillaway, “that’s very thoughtful of you, Gates.”
    He ignored her remark and looked straight ahead of him, speaking slowly.
    â€œI’m not so worried about the Japanese,” he said, “it’s the others. There must be some others to whom this thing is very important. It’s some form of a message of course. Those others may still think you have it. That’s why I’m keeping it, Miss Dillaway. In case there is any trouble, it might be better to have it than not. Of course I may be wrong.”
    Miss Dillaway glanced at him sideways.
    â€œSo you’re doing this for me. Is that true?” she said.
    â€œPartly,” he nodded slowly.
    â€œWell, you needn’t,” said Miss Dillaway. “You’d better throw it out the window, Gates.”
    â€œPerhaps,” said Calvin Gates, “but I’m not sure. They might not believe that we’d thrown it out the window. If they did believe, they might think that we understood about it. I think it’s better keeping it, a great deal better.”
    â€œDon’t you think,” inquired Miss Dillaway, and her words were sweetly deliberate, “you are taking a good deal on yourself?”
    â€œPerhaps,” Calvin Gates agreed. “We’re rather in the dark. Perhaps nothing will happen at all, but I think you need some help, Miss Dillaway.”
    â€œI haven’t asked you for help, have I?” Miss Dillaway inquired.
    â€œNo,” said Calvin Gates.
    Miss Dillaway’s color grew higher and she sat up straighter and clasped her hands tightly together. She looked sideways at him and started to speak and paused, and finally her voice had a curious note.
    â€œYou aren’t doing this because you’re attracted to me, are you, Gates? You can’t be, because you’ve hardly seen me.”
    He was surprised by the abruptness of her question and surprised because her assurance was gone, but he was startled by his own answer. He had intended to speak lightly and instead he was being serious.
    â€œI saw you last night,” he said.
    She turned away from him and looked out the window.
    â€œYou can’t be doing this just because you saw me with my hair down my back,” Miss Dillaway said.
    â€œI’m not sure,” said Calvin Gates.
    Miss Dillaway turned back from the window.
    â€œDon’t try to be gallant, Gates,” she said. “That sort of thing is stuff and nonsense. Of course I wouldn’t have asked that