He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. Now what I want you to feel is this. I’ve got too much work. . ” Lucy yanked him into the hidden door to Room 109, a door to the backstage that looked like the entrance to a broom closet. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. She had behaved in every way perfectly. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other.
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