"Yes, she has."
"So. Any difficulty in swallowing?"
Sharpless thought back. "Yes! I remember, she complained about it at tea, and wouldn't drink much."
Sharpless's quick intuition caught the atmosphere about him. H.M.'s eyes moved briefly, too briefly, towards Courtney's hands. Courtney was still holding, and absent-mindedly bending, the pin he had tried to thrust painlessly into his arm.
Then H.M. took out his watch, consulted it, and moved his finger round the dial as though he were counting hours.
"What is it?" demanded Sharpless, in a high voice. "You know something. What is it?"
"Steady, son!"
"You know something you won't tell me," cried the other. He strode forward and seized H.M.'s shoulder. "You're keeping something back; but by God you're going to tell me. What is it? What is it?"
H.M. shook off the hand.
"If I tell you what I think it may be, can you be steady enough to help and not hinder?" "Yes. Well?"