Explore "The Man in the Queue" by Josephine Tey on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was a dining-room, and there were three people having tea at the table: an elderly woman with a faint resemblance to Mrs. Everett, a girl with reddish hair and a pale skin, and the Levantine. Grant had time to note them all from behind the minister's bulk before his host's making way for him brought him into their view, and he had the exquisite pleasure of seeing his quarry recognize him. For a second Lamont's eyes widened at him, then the blood rushed to his face and as suddenly receded, leaving it deathly pale. The looker-on in Grant thought how Danny Miller would have sneered at such an exhibition--Danny, who would kill a man and not bother to remember it. The Levantine was certainly an amateur at the game--a murderer by accident more than design, perhaps.
"I have brought you a visitor," the minister was saying. "This is Mr. Grant. I found him fishing, but catching nothing, so I brought him in to get some hot tea. My sister, Mrs. Dinmont. My niece, Miss Dinmont. And a friend of ours, Mr. Lowe. Now, where will you sit?"