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Gatsby’s eyes opened and closed . “ You loved me too ? ” he repeated . “ Even alone I can’t say I never loved Tom , ” she said in a pitiful voice . “ It wouldn’t be true . ” “ Daisy’s leaving you , ” said Gatsby , with a touch of panic . “ She’s not leaving me ! ” said Tom . “ Certainly not for a common swindler who’d have to steal the ring he put on her finger . ” He turned to us and spoke rapidly . “ I’ve made a little investigation into his affairs . He and this Wolfshiem bought up a lot of side - street drugstores here and in Chicago , and they sold alcohol over the counter . And he’s got something on now that my friend Walter Chase is afraid to tell me about . ” I looked at Gatsby , and his face startled me . For a moment he looked as if he had “ killed a man ” . Then the look passed , and he began to talk excitedly to Daisy , denying everything . But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself , so he gave up , and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away . “ Please , Tom ! I can’t stand this any more . ” Her frightened eyes showed that whatever courage she had had was gone . “ You two start on home , Daisy , ” said Tom . “ In Mr Gatsby’s car . Go on . He won’t annoy you . I think he realises that his little flirtation is over . ” They were gone , without a word . After a moment Tom began to wrap the unopened bottle of whisky in the towel . “ Want any of this stuff ? Jordan ? Nick ? ” “ No , ” I said . “ I just remembered that today’s my birthday . ” I was thirty , and in front of me stretched the dark road of a new ten years . It was seven o’clock when we got into the coupé with Tom and started for Long Island . Tom talked all the time , laughing and pleased with himself . Jordan’s pale face fell lazily against my shoulder , and the fear of thirty died away with the pressure of her hand . So we drove on towards death through the cooling twilight . XII . The Yellow Car The young Greek , Michaelis , who ran the coffee shop next to the ash heaps , was the main witness at the inquest . That afternoon he had found George Wilson sick in his office , pale and shaking all over . Wilson told him calmly that he had his wife locked in upstairs , and that they were going to move away in two days . A little after seven , Michaelis heard Mrs Wilson’s voice , loud and angry , in the garage below . “ Beat me ! ” she cried . “ Throw me down and beat me , you dirty little coward ! ” A moment later she rushed out into the dusk , waving her hands and shouting , and before Michaelis could move from his door it was all over . The “ death car ” , as the newspapers called it , did not stop . It came out of the darkness , wavered for a moment and then disappeared around the next bend . Michaelis was not even sure of its colour . Myrtle Wilson lay dead in the road .
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