And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. She was making it up. 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. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words.
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