Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. . Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. She stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. But be patient, I am your fast friend. But she must stop him getting away.
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