” “Perhaps,” he said, “you had better let me have your key, and I will go up and explore. Jonathan threw open the street-door. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it.
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