Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. “I like to think of your offer. He looked no longer at his wife. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. “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. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark. So let me assure you now that we are not accusing you of a crime. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. Age is set, impervious to innovations. And, by way of checking his housekeeper's familiarity, he pointed significantly to the table.
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