Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. ’ ‘Can’t say as I’m sorry to hear you say that, missie,’ confessed the sergeant, on a relieved note, as he locked the front door of the mansion and pocketed the key. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. He was no longer in military uniform, and it was evident from his suit of brown brocade that he had been disturbed while preparing for an evening engagement. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard.
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