This thought didn’t bother Angelic in the slightest. She sat by the mirror, brushing her hair. The scene was lovely but distracting. There were strong winds blowing through the revolution that threatened to knock everything down.
“I know about the detector,” she said calmly, brushing. “I arranged for him to get it—without his knowledge of course—and made sure it was useless on the best frequencies. I keep a close watch on his affairs that way.”
“Were you listening in a few minutes ago when he was making arrangements with me to kill your guards and throw you into the dungeons downstairs?”
“No, I wasn’t listening,” she said with that amazing self-possession and calm that marked all her actions. She smiled in the mirror at me. “I was busy just remembering last night.”
Women! They insist on mixing everything up together. Perhaps they operate better that way, but it is very hard on those of us who find that keeping emotion and logic separate produces sounder thinking. I had to make her understand the seriousness of this situation.
“Well, if that little bit of news doesn’t interest you,” I said as calmly as I could, “Perhaps this does. The rough Radebrechens didn’t send that killer last night—the Count did.”
Success at last. Angelina actually stopped combing her hair and her eyes widened a bit at the import of what I said. She didn’t ask any stupid questions, but waited for me to finish.
“I think you have underestimated the desperation of that rat upstairs. When you dropped him with that bottle yesterday, you pushed him just as far as he could be pushed. He must have had his plans already made