He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. "My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. Which is why I wasn’t able to see him until today. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. We just want to ask her a few questions about an old murder case. \" She whispered back. She fled.
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