Dick looked at me with indulgent sympathy, as if I were a child.
“It’s after eleven o’clock at night,” he said. “The train for Madrid went
two hours ago, and—”
“Did you say Ropes was waiting for you outside?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And my car’s still in the garage where I put it?”
“Yes; but you’re not in a fit state for a journey. If you could see
yourself—”
“Oh, I know I’m a nightmare apparition,” I cut in; “but when I’m shaved
and—”
“The trip would kill you.”
“It would kill me not to take it.”