I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. What had been happening all this time? ‘Do you tell me he has not again left his apartment?’ ‘Only to go to some party or other Monday night,’ Kimble said. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. This is no place for me. ‘Ah, the tragedy. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do.
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