"Sober enough to tend to business; why ?" With his empty glass Ford wrote invisible scrolls upon the bar.

"I--did you happen to see--my--the lady I married ?" He had been embarrassed at first, but when he finished he was glaring a challenge which shifted the disquiet to Sam's manner.
"No.

I was tendin' bar all evenin'-- and she didn't come in here." Ford glanced behind him at the sound of the door opening, saw that it was only Bill, and leaned over the bar for greater secrecy, lowering his voice as well.
"Did you happen to hear who she was ?" Sam stared and shook his head.
"Don't you know anything about her at all--where she came from--and why, and where she went ?" Sam backed involuntarily.

Ford's tone made it a crime either to know these things or to be guilty of ignorance; which, Sam could not determine.

Sam was of the sleek, oily-haired type of young men, with pimples and pale eyes and a predilection for gum and gossip.