Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck. I don’t want you to talk to me now.
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