Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. But though the shot took effect, as was evident from the stains on the ground, the villain escaped. “I speak from my heart, and you answer from your brain. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing.
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