Explore "The Corner House" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lytton Avenue was quiet for once, and Leona Lalage was glad of it. She said truthfully that she had a splitting headache, so that she was thankful to be alone and lie down on a couch in the drawing-room with the lights lowered and eau-de-Cologne on her temples. Hetty sat a little way off engaged on some fancywork. It seemed hard to imagine that all this refinement and enviable luxury covered crime and mystery.
It was a little before eleven that Balmayne came in. He was very quiet and subdued; he sat and unfolded an evening paper. He shot a sign across to the Countess from a pair of eyes that gleamed like flames.