With such thoughts creating a membrane-like wall, protecting and insulating her essential being, she found that she was able to plunge into a deep, untroubled slumber, unsullied and untouched by any demons.

Pamela awoke to the realization that she was totally, unreservedly in love with Theo. She had known this before but her feelings had taken on a more mature timbre. She found that she was able to read him better, to see past his exterior.

But still his careful neutrality baffled her. What did it mean? That he didn't care for her? He had never said anything to make her believe that he loved her or that he shared her feelings in any way. And yet from the beginning he had been there for her, at least physically.

What did this mean? What did this say about their relationship, if you could call it that? True, he had kissed her in front of everyone, but he certainly hadn't declared his love for her or asked her to marry him. Would he ever ask to her marry him? Could he?

At one time her reply would have been an unequivocal "No," but now she wasn't quite so sure. He seemed always to be watching her and waiting for something to happen. But what? For her to grow up? To become a "real" woman? What did he see in her? What did he want her to be?

Part of her reasoned that a rich man would never even think of marrying one of his maids, though he might toy with the idea from time to time, but something, some instinct, told her that perhaps this might not be true of Theo.

She went downstairs to find the house in an uproar. Fred was there with his wife and child, and there were policemen; what had Theo called them? Oh, yes, CID, whatever that stood for. Several pairs of eyes looked at her guardedly, some speculative, some doubtful, some hopeful, some concealing inner-anxiety and impatience. Theo, too, watched her, but his look was wholly different from all the others. On the surface of it there was his habitual neutrality, but underneath Pamela could tell, could feel that he was somehow willing her to be strong.

As she reached the landing, the Chief Inspector, a red-haired giant of a man with a walrus moustache named Chief Inspector Robert Matthews, whom she had spoken to the previous evening, rose from his chair and approached her.

'Miss Dee,' he said deferentially, 'how are you feeling this morning?'

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Pamela noticed at once that the man appeared very tired: there were creases around his eyes that she knew were caused by lack of sleep, that he had been awake all night. While she had slept, long and well. This revelation made her feel as though she had let him and everyone else down in some way. She resolved in that moment to meet her fears head-on.




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