CHAPTER XXIII‘You have brought a detective here—here?’ Miss Paradine was quite white, quite controlled, but her eyes blazed and her voice had a cutting edge.
Mark, standing just inside the door of her sitting-room, contemplated his assembled family and said,
‘Yes.’
They were all there except Albert Pearson, and they were all looking at him—Frank Ambrose with a heavy frown; Brenda paler than usual, her eyes bolting; Irene with her mouth hanging open; Phyllida startled; Dicky, his lips pursed for an inaudible whistle; Elliot grim; and Grace Paradine with a look of anger which he had seen once or twice before, but not for him. Only Lydia’s face held any encouragement. She met his eyes, smiled into them with hers, and then looked quickly away. She thought, ‘It’s going to be a dog-fight. Oh,
