In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. ” “At any rate,” she declared, “your remarks decided me. ‘But can you? You don’t know Melusine for Mary Remenham’s daughter, any more than I do. “I know. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder.
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