’ The lady’s gaze dwelled thoughtfully on the half-drawn sword and then came up to meet his, an odd look in her eyes. His suspicions at first fell upon you. But you belong to me—and I want you. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. Your fingers are even now as stiff as a schoolgirl’s. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. ’ She had given nothing away.
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