CHAPTER FIVEWhy?
Clara said that Mrs. Coldfield probably ought to go straight to bed, that she had every reason to be a wreck. Mrs. Coldfield said that she had slept in the car and wasn’t at all tired, and that she wouldn’t be able to close an eye until she had told Gamadge all about it—she owed him that, at least. Gamadge said that he wouldn’t be able to close an eye until he’d heard.
“But don’t let that influence you,” he added. “Sometimes I don’t close an eye anyway.”
They were in the office, which had once been the Gamadge family drawing-room; a high, long room, with a white moulded ceiling and a white mantel, beneath which a fire burned. Mrs. Coldfield was warming her hands at the fire.
She said: “I can’t believe it—that I’m out of that house forever. It’s very stimulating, Mrs. G
