“Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him immediately before your arrival—or rather if it was not himself the person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you arrived. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ‘I know you, Gerald. Maggot. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. ” There was a strange look in her face, the look of a frightened child. ” “Bit starchy,” said Ann Veronica, and altered the key abruptly. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat.
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