“It does make your head go round rather, doesn’t it?”
Henry assented. They both sat silent. Then Jane put down the notebook.
“Never mind about our heads going round,” she said. “Let me go on and tell you the rest of it. It isn’t only what Renata heard; it’s the things that keep happening—little things in a way, but oh, Henry, sometimes I think they are more frightening just because they are little things. I mean, supposing you know you’re going to be executed, you brace yourself up, and it’s all in the day’s work, but if you are out at a dinner-party and you suddenly find poison in the soup, or a bomb in the middle of the table decorations, it’s ... well, it’s unexpected—and, and _perfectly beastly_.”
Henry’s hand came quickly through the torchlight, and rested on both hers. It was a satisfactorily large and heavy hand.
She told him about her interview with Ember at the flat, and one by one she marshalled all the small happenings which had startled and alarmed her.
Henry waited until she had quite finished. Then he said:
“This lip-reading—you know, my dear girl, it’s a chancy sort of thing; it seems to me that there are unlimited possibilities of mistake.”
“Some people are much easier to read from than others. Lady Heritage is very easy. I’m sure I was not mistaken; she was saying, ‘If she overheard anything, would she have the intelligence to be dangerous? That is what I ask myself,’ and she said, ‘Despise not thine enemy,’ and ‘Anything but Formula “A.”’ Now Mr. Ember is very difficult. I can’t really make him out at all. His lips don’t move. It’s no use not believing me, Henry. Look here, I’ll show you.”
She caught up the little torch, and turned the light upon his face.
Henry’s lips formed the words, “Jane, I love you very much indeed”—and Jane switched off the light.
“Henry, you’re a perfect beast! Play fair,” she said, in a low, furious whisper.
Jane allowed the ray to light up Henry’s mouth and chin. The hand that held the torch was not quite steady. This may have been the result of anger—or of some other emotion. As a result the light wavered a good deal.
Henry’s lips moved, and Jane read aloud, “A sleuth should never lose its temper.”
Henry’s hand caught the little shaking one that held the torch, and gave it a great squeeze.