"What was it?" He was insistent. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. If you had arrived ten minutes later, or if there hadn't been an iron bar in the chimney, that hindered my progress, I should have been beyond your reach. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate.
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