"I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. How long have you been playing?” Lucy breathed an internal sigh of relief. They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly.
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