“I’ll have a suite prepared for you,” he said.
“That’s settled, then.”
Miss Masters got up from her seat. As she did so Druce attempted a caress. “I’m going to collect part of the rent in advance,” he said.
“Are you?” Miss Masters pushed him away sharply. He did not repeat his indiscretion. Instead he stood back respectfully to let her pass. In the palm of her hand with the muzzle pointing firmly in his direction he saw a small, steel-blue magazine pistol. The girl’s finger was on the trigger.
“If you’ll have one of your servants show me the suite,” said Miss Masters, “I’ll telephone for my maid.”
Then she added, seemingly as an afterthought,
“I never pay the rent, Mr. Druce, until the end of the week.”