Loraine’s Adventures
Loraine Wade sat up in bed and switched on the light. It was exactly ten minutes to one. She had gone to bed early—at half past nine. She possessed the useful art of being able to wake herself up at the required time, so she had been able to enjoy some hours of refreshing sleep.
Two dogs slept in the room with her, and one of these now raised his head and looked at her inquiringly.
“Quiet, Lurcher,” said Loraine, and the big animal put his head down again obediently, watching her from between his shaggy eyelashes.
It is true that Bundle had once doubted the meekness of Loraine Wade, but that brief moment of suspicion had passed. Loraine had seemed so entirely reasonable, so willing to be kept out of everything.
And yet, if you studied the girl’s face, you saw that there was strength of purpose in the small, resolute jaw and the lips that closed together so firmly.
Loraine rose and dressed herself in a tweed coat and skirt. Into one pocket of the coat she dropped an electric torch. Then she opened the drawer of her dressing table and took out a small ivory-handled pistol—almost a toy in appearance. She had bought it the day before at Harrods and she was very pleased with it.
She gave a final glance round the room to see if she had forgotten anything, and at that moment the big dog rose and came over to her, looking up at her with pleading eyes and wagging his tail.
Loraine shook her head.