“She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true.”
His eyes were closed. Anna left the room on tiptoe. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together.
Chapter XXX
SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE
Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered.
She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat.
“John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. Do get your hat, and we will go to that corner café.”
“Right,” he answered. “I know the place you mean—very good cooking for such an out-of-the-way show. I’ll be ready in a moment.”