“You could read a few hours after your friend was murdered?”
“I could try to read—it was better than thinking.”
“You’ve got a pretty cool head, Miss Tracy,” he added, and relinquished her hand. She fell back in her chair as if his hold upon her had been all that sustained her in an upright position. He rose, looking down at her, curious and unsatisfied:
“I guess we’ll call a halt for a while. We’ve other work to attend to. But wait here till we come back; we may have to do some more talking.” He turned to Williams and gave a jerk of his head toward the hall. “Come on, we’ll go up there now.”
He walked to the door, Williams following him. As it shut after them Bassett went to her and bent over her chair. She held him off with a hand on his breast and whispered:
“Where are they going?”
“Up-stairs, to the top story.”
She clutched the lapels of his coat:
“He’s there, he’s up there.”
“He—who?”