Chapter Twenty
Miss Beatrice’s training instantly causes her to recognize reluctance. I suppose being rather loquacious concerning the ranch, et. al. and then suddenly becoming reticent when shown Mary’s photo provides a rather evident clue.
Miss Beatrice senses attachment, and of course she is correct.
“Who is she, Captain?”
I remain stalwart in maintaining silence. Miss Beatrice arises from the stool and moves to the wall mounted board decorated with the nasty trinkets. She selects and strolls back with a pleasant smile. I know it to be a look of Schadenfreude.
“We need to know everything about you, Captain. Nothing can be withheld.”
I shiver in fear, having felt before the effects of the simple metal implements. She slides the stool to my side as I remain kneeling and impaled.
