Two spots of colour burned in the great smooth face.
“I never fluke,” he said majestically.
Simon smiled back. Then he raised his eyebrows and turned to the door.
“I say I never fluke. Take—back—those—notes.”
Simon turned, still smiling, to look the speaker in the eyes.
“I wouldn’t touch them,” he said, “with the end of a ten-foot pole.”
The Master recoiled. Then he seemed to shrink into himself.
The two red spots spread into deep blotches, and a hand went up to cover the quivering mouth.
For a moment he stood motionless. Then, with a visible effort, he touched the arm of his chair.
A bell throbbed.