Montressor’s guests. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. Seeing Capes from day to day made a bright eventfulness that hampered her in the course she had resolved to follow. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. “All right so far,” she said to herself. They must see the prisoner at the hatch. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor.
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