“I confess I had a better opinion of him,” he said, disregarding her flippancy. “I don't like him, but I've never suspected him of being a stupid ass before.”
“Of whom are you speaking?” she inquired, suddenly looking him full in the eye.
“Our mutual friend, the enemy,” he replied.
“Mr. Percival?”
“Certainly.”
“But I thought he was beneath our notice.”
“We can't very well help noticing him when he goes to such extreme lengths to attract attention.”
“You think he did it to attract attention?”
“Not so much that, perhaps, as to get back into the lime-light. You see, he was rather out of it for as much as half an hour, and he simply couldn't stand it. So he went off and staged a little sideshow of his own.”
She walked on in silence for a few moments, torn by doubts and misgivings. Landover's sarcastic analysis was like a douche of cold water. Perhaps he was right. It had been a spectacular, not to say diverting, exhibition. Her eyes darkened. An expression of pain lurked in them.