Jack looked towards the door. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology. Thames Darrell MUST die. There is the key. ‘Point it at me. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. The shouts of indignation—the frightful yells now raised baffle description. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors.
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