Polly’s head was as high as Gita’s. Her tones had never been more crisp and metallic. “Well!” she said. “I tried to kill you. No intention of denying it. Almost wish I had. But once more you’ve won out. Call the police if you like.”
Gita shrugged disdainfully.
There was a sound of flying feet on the stair.
“What is the matter?” demanded the nurse. “How could you make such a terrible noise under Mr. Bylant’s window? I only waited to give him an opiate, but he won’t calm down until he knows what has happened.”
Gita dismissed her with an impatient wave of the hand.
“Miss Pleyden lost control of her car. Nobody is hurt. Please tell him so at once.”
The nurse, her curiosity by no means gratified, retired from a promising scene.
Gita turned to Polly.
“I really think there is nothing more to say. Don’t you think we’d all better go to bed?”
Polly looked at her wonderingly.