They saw three or four automobiles and the crowd when they were still some distance away. "We'll take a look," Tom said doubtfully, "just a look."
"See the accident?" asked the policeman. "No, but the car passed me down the road, going faster'n forty." said the pale well-dressed negro. "That yellow car I was driving this afternoon wasn't mine" said Tom.
Tom drove slowly, suddenly his foot came down hard and the car raced along through the night. In a little while a low husky sob could be heard, Tom had tears overflowing down his face. "The God Damn coward! He didn't even stop his car!" he whimpered.
Tom opened the door. "Come in." "No thanks. But I'd be glad if you'd order me the taxi, I'll wait outside." said Nick with a somber tone. Nick sat down for a few minutes with his head in his hands.
Nick barely moved 20 yards when he heard his name, soon after Gatsby appeared from between two bushes into the path. Gatsby, hesitant of the answer, asked "Was she killed?" "Yes... was Daisy driving?" replied Nick. "Yes," Gatsby said after a silent pause, "but of course I'll say I was."
Gatsby hadn't moved from the drive, he was anxious about Daisy. "Is it all quiet up there?" he asked. Nick answered, "Yes, it's all quiet... you better get some sleep." Gatsby refused and wanted to wait until daisy went to bed. "Good night, old sport." said Gatsby as he stood there in the moonlight — watching over nothing.