Then I went over and tapped on the communicating door between my room and Jack Ravenhurst's. There was no answer.
I said, "Jack, I'm coming in. I have a key."
She said, "Go away. I'm not dressed. I'm going to bed."
"Grab something quick," I told her. "I'm coming in."
I keyed open the door.
She was no more dressed for bed than I was, unless she made a habit of sleeping in her best evening togs. Anger blazed in her eyes for a second, then that faded, and she tried to look all sweetness and light.
"I was trying on some new clothes," she said innocently.
A lot of people might have believed her. The emotional field she threw out, encouraging utter belief in her every word, was as powerful as any I'd ever felt. I just let it wash past me and said: "Come into my room for a few minutes, Jack; I want to talk to you."
I didn't put any particular emphasis into it. I don't have to. She came.