“I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. ” The full significance of her words did not instantly appear to him. She kept her face downcast. She remembered Taber's hat. Then Capes shifted his eyes to her microscope and the little trays of unmounted sections beside it. . She wanted to think. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. "To the best of my belief, Thames Darrell has been murdered by you. ” Anna hesitated.
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