A new idea drifted in from nowhere. He could go to the police. He could tell them his fears of being involved, he could explain what had happened in the old neighborhood and how Mae had misunderstood and how she had held it over him -- the scene was complete in his mind at the moment, even to his own jerkings and snivelings, and Ferguson's silent patience. He could throw himself on the mercy of the Police Department.

It wasn't what Mae would want him to do, though. He was sure of this. Once he had abandoned himself to the very worst, once he had quieted all the dragons of worry and suspense, there wouldn't be very much for Mae to do. At that moment, Holden almost slammed on the brakes to go back to Cooper and ask if Ferguson was about.

It would be such a relief.

What was that old sign, supposed to be painted over a door somewhere, Abandon hope, all ye who enter here?

Why, Holden said to himself, surprised at his own sudden insight, I'll bet some of those people who enter are just as happy as can be. They've worried, they've lain awake nights, they've shook at the slightest footstep, they've pictured their own destruction, and now it's all over and they can give up. Sure, they're giving up hope. Hand in hand with hope went things like terror and apprehension. Good-bye. Holden waved a hand at the empty street. Glad to see you go.

He drove into the paved space before the garage and got out, slamming the car door. He looked up and down the street. If Ferguson's car had been in sight, Holden would have walked directly to it.