Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten. He had grabbed a tiny remote control and flew the thing around the table, landing it there and turning it off. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. She looked stealthily at Anna. During all this time, he had never quitted the iron bar, and he now grasped it with the firm determination of selling his life dearly, if he met with any opposition. "Thank you," she said, and left the office. He had an objective now.
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