I’ll have to think of something else. 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. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. "Any price was better than your head. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. How could he have betrayed her so cruelly? How could he lie and claim her as dead? Sebastian studied her carefully as she refused to cry and became like a pillar of stone.
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