By Carter Dickson
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Extra info for Behind the Crimson Blind
But sometimes you're so - so childish. " There was terrible silence. Maureen did not know she had said the unsayable thing. , though he shivered, did not explode. He merely folded his arms. " he murmured, with his eye on a corner of the ceiling. "Please! " inquired the other, with vast surprise. " He cogitated. "The first crook' I meet will—" Then he sighed. "Y'know, I wonder if you can guess how many crooks I've flumdiddled and turned wall-eyed at their own game? But I'm not going to tell you.
His tweed sports coat, with grey flannel trousers and a sombre dark-blue tie, might have come from Bond Street. Though his best friend could not have called him handsome, his thin face showed traces of an intelligence and humour which were masked, as a result of his official duties, by a formal courtesy close to stateli-ness. In his left hand he held a small sheaf of papers. , and then raised the red-brown eyes which were his best feature. "Sir Henry," he said, in English without a trace of foreign accent, "may I be the first to welcome you?
There you will find . " "No, sir. No! This gentleman is not Dutch. , and his eyes flashed open. "That's better. " "Thank you. " "Take your time, son. M. nodded, setting his hat at a more seemly angle. He lumbered out of the garage, and a good distance along the high stone wall of the staircase. Then, turning back on his tracks, he went up the stairs, soothing his lungs with poisonous smoke. He found the floor of the balcony —and stopped short. From this high place, the view should have been seen by the romantic Maureen.