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249 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published August 1, 1940
“If she’s in this business, she won’t get away again if I can help it. But if she’s in it, you’re up against something—all of us are. She can write any hand, use any voice, impersonate a dozen different types. In these two affairs I’ve been telling you about she passed unquestioned as Mannister’s secretary, a correct and colourless young man—as Asphodel, an exotic type of medium—as Della Delorne, an ex-chorus girl—as Miss Cannock, an old maid secretary—and as Henry Postlethwaite himself. Nobody suspected her in any of these roles. Whatever part she’s playing now, nobody’s suspecting her—you may take that for gospel. She’s a damned sight too clever.”
Terry walked among the roses, and tried to feel clever and grown-up and practical again. Mr. Applegarth had put her back to ten years old and her first day at a new school. He had called her my dear, and she felt that for twopence he would have patted her on the head. She was very glad indeed to see Fabian Roxley coming towards her, because she was practically sure that Fabian was in love with her, and if anything could make you feel grown-up after being talked to in the most shattering way as if you were a little girl, it would be the company of someone who was at least thirty, and who might propose to you at any moment.
Human beings are very adaptable. By the end of the day Terry was housekeeping. She had a grocery list written out for Jake to take away with him when he went off duty, and she sent the Bruiser back to wipe his feet when he came in wet and muddy. The extraordinary thing was that he went. Peter caught his breath, but the Bruiser went back meekly enough. They heard him scuffing his feet on the mat by the area door. He came, after all, of generations of women who had told their men they wouldn’t have boots like that on a clean scrubbed kitchen floor. Breeding tells.
The man who came in was a long, lazy person, most beautifully dressed. He had a single eyeglass, and fair hair in process of receding from a brow already high. He was, in fact, Mr. Fabian Roxley, and he was a good deal more intelligent than he looked.