“Did she throw overhand or underhand?”
“It was so quick I hardly know. But I should say a short overhand snap. It came hard enough!”
“I do not like it at all,” said Kent again.
He wandered disconsolately and with half-closed eyes about the room, until he blundered into collision with a cot-lounge in the corner, spread with cushions. These he heaped up, threw his coat over them, stretched himself out with his feet propped high on the mound just erected, and closed his eyes.
“Sleepy?” inquired Sedgwick.
“Busy,” retorted his guest.
“Like some more pillows?”
“No; I’d like ten minutes of silence.” The speaker opened one eye. “At the end of that time perhaps you’ll think better of it.”
“Of what?”
“Of concealing an essentially important part of your experience, which has to do, I think, with the jewelry.”