“Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. “Anna,” he cried eagerly. She will take me in until I can make some plans. He might have been a complete innocent, she did not know and did not bother to find out. Gianfrancesco had been talked into the arrangement only because the drivers that had handled the job for generations were sick or dead. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance.
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