She felt Kew’s hand on her arm and she steadied. He interrupted the dialogue. “I have a Washington call coming at two, Captain Thusby. And I presume the women must be feeling rather faint without lunch. Do you need us longer?”
Thusby looked to Kew, then Griselda. She probably appeared as moon-yellow as she felt. “You can go, I guess,” he said. “Leave your fingerprints in the outer office.” He scotched the major’s borning protest. “If you’re innocent as you all make out, you won’t mind doing that. And don’t any of you leave town.”
Major Pembrooke did protest now. “I must return.”
Griselda didn’t wait. She was first in line to press her fingers on the pad, and she was brusque in refusal of Kew’s offer to drive her home. She didn’t want to see or hear of him or any of them again.
3
Con w
