“Yes,” he said, “I shall come. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. I'd go for it. Lucy aimed the firearm at Rhea’s chest. “It was fine and brave of you. The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for. I have been very foolish, but it is over.
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