Chapter V

“Good morning, Bruce!” With a barely repressed exclamation of annoyance, Harcourt returned the greeting of the woman who smiled at him from the office door. She was small and slender. A stupid-faced little Pekinese peered with beady eyes from under her arm. Her rouged mouth was a trifle pinched, her fair hair was almost as yellow as the smart sports frock and felt hat she wore. From under the brim two feverishly bright violet eyes interrogated him. The brilliant morning sunlight cruelly accentuated the grayish shad…