” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. Sheppard, paralysed by the threat. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. He recognized the face instantly. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby.
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