There was nothing in it but a small expensive dogleash made of leather and braided silver. It wasapparently new.
“This？” he inquired， holding it up.
Wilson stared and nodded.
“I found it yesterday afternoon. She tried to tellme about it but I knew it was something funny.”
“You mean your wife bought it？”
“She had it wrapped in tissue paper on her bureau.”
Michaelis didn’t see anything odd in that and hegave Wilson a dozen reasons why his wife mighthave bought the dog leash. But conceivably Wilsonhad heard some of these same explanations before，from Myrtle， because he began saying “Oh， myGod！” again in a whisper—his comforter left severalexplanations in the air.
“Then he killed her，” said Wilson. His mouthdropped open suddenly.
“Who did？”
“I have a way of finding out.”
“You’re morbid， George，” said his friend. “This hasbeen a strain to you and you don’t know what you’resaying. You’d better try and sit quiet till morning.”
“He murdered her.”
“It was an accident， George.”
Wilson shook his head. His eyes narrowed and hismouth widened slightly with the ghost of a superior“Hm！”
“I know，” he said definitely， “I’m one of thesetrusting fellas and I don’t think any harm to NObody，but when I get to know a thing I know it. It was theman in that car. She ran out to speak to him and hewouldn’t stop.”
Michaelis had seen this too but it hadn’t occurredto him that there was any special significance in it.
He believed that Mrs. Wilson had been runningaway from her husband， rather than trying to stopany particular car.
“How could she of been like that？”
“She’s a deep one，” said Wilson， as if that answeredthe question. “Ah-h-h—”
He began to rock again and Michaelis stood twisting the leash in his hand.
“Maybe you got some friend that I could telephonefor， George？”
This was a forlorn hope—he was almost sure thatWilson had no friend： there was not enough ofhim for his wife. He was glad a little later when henoticed a change in the room， a blue quickening bythe window， and realized that dawn wasn’t far off.
About five o’clock it was blue enough outside tosnap off the light.
Wilson’s glazed eyes turned out to the ashheaps，where small grey clouds took on fantastic shape andscurried here and there in the faint dawn wind.
“I spoke to her，” he muttered， after a long silence.
“I told her she might fool me but she couldn’t foolGod. I took her to the window—” With an efforthe got up and walked to the rear window and leanedwith his face pressed against it， “—and I said， ‘Godknows what you’ve been doing， everything you’vebeen doing. You may fool me but you can’t fool God！’”
Standing behind him Michaelis saw with a shockthat he was looking at the eyes of Doctor T. Eckleburg which had just emerged pale and enormousfrom the dissolving night.
“God sees everything，” repeated Wilson.
“That’s an advertisement，” Michaelis assured him.
Something made him turn away from the window and look back into the room. But Wilson stoodthere a long time， his face close to the windowpane， nodding into the twilight.
By six o’clock Michaelis was worn out and grateful for the sound of a car stopping outside. Itwas one of the watchers of the night before whohad promised to come back so he cooked breakfastfor three which he and the other man ate together.
Wilson was quieter now and Michaelis went hometo sleep； when he awoke four hours later and hurried back to the garage Wilson was gone.