F. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. Listen to me, Thames. She cried out his name in ecstasy. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. The doctor jumped to his feet. His feet would have the firm texture of his hands.
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