“And you refused?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Very little; he agreed.”
“But he is not the sort of person who turns the other cheek to the smiter.”
“I didn’t smite him,” Medenham blurted out.
Cynthia fastened on to the hesitating denial with the hawklike pounce of some barrister famous for merciless cross-examination of a hostile witness.
“Did you offer to?” she asked.
“We dealt with possible eventualities,” he said weakly.