“I do not expect to escape it, nor do I fear it. Why are you telling me this, Mr. Moore?”
“I thought you understood that as Mr. Ames’s adviser, I must make certain inquiries in the course of pursuing my duties.”
She thawed a little, and said, half apologetically, “I suppose so. Is there anything else I can tell you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Dallas. Since Mr. Tracy is dead, have you any intention of marrying any one else?”
“I think, Mr. Moore, you are carrying your zeal for Mr. Ames’s work too far. I must beg to be excused from further conversation.”
She rose and stood, like a tragedy queen, not angry, but with a scornful look on her handsome face and an expression in her eyes eloquent of dismissal. She did not point to the door, but such a gesture was not necessary with that look in her eyes.
Courteously and with no effect of chagrin, Kee bowed his adieu and I followed suit.
“Whew!” I remarked, after we had regained the outer road, “some goddess!”
“Amazon! Boadicea! Xantippe! Medea!—yes, and Lucrezia Borgia!” he exclaimed, his voice making up in emphasis what it lacked in sound. “This case begins to look interesting, Gray. What price Everett and the Dallas in cahoots as murderers?”
“Are you serious?” I asked, thinking he was merely smarting under the lady’s stinging rebuke.