“Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. He helped himself to a beer, then a vodka and tonic, then two rum and Cokes. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked.
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