82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. A faint anticipation of triumph showed in his manner and a subdued excitement. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. I’m not discussing Shakespeare. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him. There was no longer any risk in association with her.
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