" At this juncture, the door opened, and Thames entered the room. ” Courtlaw laughed hardly. “Feel better. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. “I killed him. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn. That old chap has a remarkable range in reading. You say you have twenty-four hundred in your letter of credit. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. John’s demeanor shifted.
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