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” He smiled at the naiveté of her suggestion. "But, I say, that girl is a queer one. Voilà tout. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. We'll have him yet. Earles declared. “A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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