She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. Norris, wringing her hands and wepping, the unfortunate lady was placed upon a couch. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. “Goodnight. I don’t idealize you. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. Find them at Remenham House—if you can. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. After that, we'll go our several ways. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it.
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