He held in his hands many threads. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. I killed him, Nigel. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again.
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