Can you kill yourself?” He asked quietly. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. Gosse backed, not even attempting to parry so unorthodox a use of the foil. Sheppard snatched back her hand from his grasp, and exerted all her force to repel his advances. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. Always as black and bitter as gall.
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