" "I am almost afraid to utter it," said Kneebone; "but Thames Darrell is murdered. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. His first reaction had been explosive as the hurts of the past rose up to taunt him. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. “Oh. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. " "What time is it?" inquired Jack.
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