She listened, her suspicions confirmed. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. Those were great tricks that you pulled with the car and the glass, but why shouldn’t I believe that this has all been an elaborate hoax?” He asked. 260 “Can you turn me into one?” “Yes, I can turn you into one tonight. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. . It was Annabel who caught at the paper.
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