“Do you feel a draught, Mr. Bennett?” cried Jane sharply, wheeling round on him.
“There is a draught,” began Mr. Bennett.
“Well, finish sneezing and I’ll go on.”
“I didn’t sneeze!”
“Somebody sneezed.”
“It seemed to come from just behind you,” said Mrs. Hignett nervously.
“It couldn’t have come from just behind me,” said Jane, “because there isn’t anything behind me from which it could have....” She stopped suddenly, in her eyes the light of understanding, on her face the set expression which was wont to come to it on the eve of action. “Oh!” she said in a different voice, a voice which was cold and tense and sinister. “Oh, I see!” She raised her gun, and placed a muscular forefinger on the trigger. “Come out of that!” she said. “Come out of that suit of armour and let’s have a look at you!”
“I can explain everything,” said a muffled voice through the vizor of the helmet. “I can—achoo!” The smoke of the cigarette tickled Sam’s nostrils again, and he suspended his remarks.
“I shall count three,” said Jane Hubbard, “One—two—”
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” said Sam petulantly.