Explore "A Front of Brass" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Events were not standing still at Grant Lea. The bombshell had fallen and exploded at Hubert Grant's feet, shattering his schemes into fragments. The startling unexpectedness of it left him utmost petrified for the moment. It was the very unexpectedness that kept him silent. He looked from Sir Bruce's placid unsuspicious features into the deadly whiteness of May's face. For her sake more than his own he would have to see this thing through.
At any rate Sir Bruce did not suspect him. There was comfort in this reflection. Sir Bruce regarded it either as a mistake, or an impudent attempt at impersonation on the part of some audacious stranger. Probably it was a practical joke. It was just as well perhaps to adopt this view of the matter. Hubert found his voice at last.