"He'll not be coming back," she said, "and I want to talk to you." And pointing to the document that Leslie had been shown, she asked: "What does all this signify?"
"What it signifies," he answered, picking up the paper, "may depend on you."
The woman looked puzzled.
"How?"
Flomerfelt's eyes narrowed. Then, with a lithe and dexterous movement of his long arms, he shot his cuffs—hitherto out of sight—into view; extending them, with a jerk, below his coat-sleeves, so that they covered his lean wrists to the extent of three-quarters of an inch, a distance which he measured with mathematical certainty, apparently, for his nice adjustment of them was followed critically by his glance. He eyed and adjusted one cuff until it satisfied him, and then eyed and adjusted the other; finally he rubbed his hands together, and said:
"One of the richest women in the world—rich in her own right. How does that sound to you?"
Mrs. Peter V. stared at him.
"Who is?" she inquired.
"It's a possibility that affects a woman in this house."
"Leslie?"