" "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel. I am suspected of having shot the man. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. ” “You did not notice anything which may have escaped this lady? You saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Brendon answered. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. You simply can’t. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. . ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips.
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