Quick, Amanda Read Online Free PDF

anger crackled through her. "You can-not buy my silence, Mr. Grove. I do not want
    your money. What concerns me is the safety and security of my aunts and myself. If any one of us is
    placed in danger of arrest be-cause of your actions, I shall not hesitate to give the police your name and
    tell them every detail of this discussion."
    "I doubt very much that the police will give you any trouble. As you suggested, they will likely conclude
    that Mrs. Delmont was murdered by a burglar and that will be the end of it"
    "How can you be sure of that?"
    "Because that is the simplest answer, and the officers of the law are known to prefer that sort of
    explanation."
    "What if they find the list of sitters and proceed to make them all suspects, as you did, sir?"
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "They won't find the list."
    She stared at the paper. "You took it?"
    "I am quite certain that none of the names on this list would be of any practical use to the police."
    "I see." She did not know what to say.
    "Speaking of names," he said rather casually. "I should tell you that it would not do you any good to give
    mine to the police."
    "Why?" she asked coldly. "Because a gentleman of your obvious wealth and position does not need to
    worry overmuch about answering questions from the police?"
    "No one is above the law. But that is not the reason why f advised you not to give them my name." His
    mouth curved in a cryptic smile. "The problem is that Mr. Grove does not exist. I invented him for this
    interview. When I walk out your front door today, he will vanish just like one of those ghostly
    manifestations that are so popular at séances"
    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    She sat down quite suddenly, head whirling. "Good heavens. You gave me a false name?"
    "Yes. Will you be so good as to indulge me with an answer to one last question?"
    She blinked, still struggling to collect herself and her scattered thoughts. "What is it?"
    He held up the paper that he had taken from her desk.
    "Why the devil were you making all these notes?"
    "Oh, those." Glumly she surveyed the page he held. "I am an author, sir. My novels are serialized in the
    Flying Intelligencer." She paused. "Perhaps you read that paper?"
    "No, I do not. As I recall, it is one of those extremely irritating newspapers that thrives on sensation."
    "Well—"
    "The sort of paper that resorts to printing news of illicit scandals and lurid crimes in order to attract
    readers." She sighed. "I expect you prefer the Times."
    "Yes"
    "No surprise there, I suppose," she muttered. "Tell me, don't you find it rather dull reading?"
    "I find it accurate and reliable reading, Mrs. Fordyce. Just the sort of newspaper reading that I prefer."
    "Of course it is. As I was saying, the Flying Intelligencer prints my novels. I am required by the terms of
    my contract to supply my publisher, Mr. Spraggett, with a new chapter every week. I have been having
    some trouble with one of the characters, Edmund Drake. He is very important to the story but I have
    been having difficulty getting him down properly on paper. There has been something rather vague about
    him, I'm afraid. He requires sharpening up"
    He looked reluctantly fascinated and, perhaps, be-mused. "You took notes about my appearance and
    attire so that you could apply them to the hero of your story?"
    "Heavens, no," she assured him with an airy wave of her hand. "Whatever gave you that idea? Edmund
    Drake is not the hero of my tale. He is the villain of the piece." THREE
    For some wholly irrational reason, it annoyed him that she had cast him in the role of the villain.
    Adam Hardesty brooded on the disastrous encounter that he had just concluded with the very
    unexpected, very intriguing Mrs. Caroline Fordyce while he made his way home to the mansion inLaxton
    Square . He was well aware that the lady's opinion of him should have been at the bottom of his long