..
If he could have read her mind, have seen behind the film of thought that
clouded her eyes, one fears Mr. Anisty might have lost appetite for an
excellent luncheon. For she was studying his hands, her memory harking
back to the moment when she had stood beside the safe, holding the
bull's-eye....
In the blackness of that hour a disk of light shone out luridly against the
tapestry of memory. Within its radius appeared two hands, long, supple,
strong, immaculately white, graceful and dexterous, as delicate of contour
as a woman's, yet lacking nothing of masculine vigor and modeling; hands
that wavered against the blackness, fumbling with the shining nickeled
disk of a combination-lock.... The impression had been and remained one
extraordinarily vivid. Could her eyes have deceived her so?...
"Thoughtful?"
She nodded alertly, instantaneously mistress of self; and let her gaze,
serious yet half smiling, linger upon his the exact fractional shade of an
instant longer than had been, perhaps, discreet. Then lashes drooped long
upon her cheeks, and her color deepened all but imperceptibly.
The man's breath halted, then came a trace more rapidly than before. He
bent forward impulsively.
... The girl sighed, ever so gently.
"I was thoughtful.... It's all so strange, you know."
His attitude was an eager question.
"I mean our meeting--that way, last night." She held his gaze again,
momentarily, and----
"Damn the waiter!" quoth savagely Mr.
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