Abruptly the sterner look vanished and she twinkled. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. If he recovers he may not accuse her. "These writer chaps are queer birds.
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