He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. ” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. The latch came with a weak click. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. “I’ve broken off my engagement,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, and found her heart thumping in her neck. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. ” “I suppose so.
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