CHAPTER 30It was after ten when Frank Abbott walked in upon Miss Silver knitting and Cicely making stormy music at the piano. She stopped on a crashing chord, let the sound die away, and got to her feet.
“Has anything happened?”
“No.”
Bramble got up from the fire and came to sniff at Frank’s ankles.
“Have you had anything to eat?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Have some coffee?”
“Oh, don’t bother.”
“I’ll go and make it.”
She went out, and Bramble after her.
Frank sat down by the fire. He was cold, he was tired, he had had a very bad dinner. He had never hated a case so much. He began to tell Miss Silver about it to the soothing accompaniment of warmth, the click of her knitting-needles, and a prospect of hot coffee.
Cicely, coming back with the tray, heard the murmur of their voices from t
