CHAPTER 21Before I could do anything more than get the vase back on the mantel, my hands shaking violently, I heard a key in the latch. I got back to my chair and picked up my coffee cup, and was sipping the last of it when Philander Doyle came in. Roger was not with him. He stopped in the doorway, took a sort of sharp hold of himself and came in. He bent over the coffee tray, poured a cup of coffee and drained it, poured another and drained that. Then he sat down heavily, his great head dropped forward a little, the veins on his forehead swelling dangerously, his breath coming in stertorous waves.
When he looked over at me after an instant his eyes had lost their Irish twinkle. They were glazed with anxiety and…fear.
“I made two mistakes, Mrs. Latham,” he said heavily. “I didn’t know Je
