Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword. "Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. She gloried in it: he needed her. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Then she moved towards the door.
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