She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. ‘But you are idiot. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before. "Never throw away a chance," thought Jonathan.
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