“Say something,” she commanded.
Henry’s lips formed the words, “Jane, I love you very much indeed”—and Jane switched off the light.
“Henry, you’re a perfect beast! Play fair,” she said, in a low, furious whisper.
“Sorry. Wasn’t it all right? Try again.”
Jane allowed the ray to light up Henry’s mouth and chin. The hand that held the torch was not quite steady. This may have been the result of anger—or of some other emotion. As a result the light wavered a good deal.
Henry’s lips moved, and Jane read aloud, “A sleuth should never lose its temper.”
Henry’s hand caught the little shaking one that held the torch, and gave it a great squeeze.
“How frightfully clever you are, and—oh, Jane, what a goose!”
“I’m not,” said Jane.
“But don’t you see that, with Renata’s story in your mind, you would be looking out for things? You couldn’t help it.”