Chapter 26
HER FACE was slanted to the door in quarter profile: the June sunshine pouring through the window at her side touched copper tones in the knot of hair that rested on her slender, shapely neck. The Scotland Yard man could not see her expression; but the tilt of her head, the way she clasped her hands, in the same attitude as her companion’s, bespoke her interest in what Reardon was saying. The watcher had a sudden stab of jealousy. He had thought, as he looked from one to the other on the boat, what a well-matched couple they would make; and now his own words to her, in the garden last night, came back to him— she was the sort of girl to sweep a fellow off his feet, he had told her.
She had lied to him. To be installed at breakfast here in New York at that hour— it was not yet
