He was just stripping his jacket off when he saw her at the door of her room. “Hullo!” he called. “Why the wild enthusiasm for toil?” She was immaculate as always, but he thought she looked pale. She did not wear her glasses. “I couldn’t sleep, Dr. Craig. When daylight broke at last I was glad to come. And there’s always plenty to do.” “True. But I don’t like the insomnia.” He walked across to her. “You and I need a rest. When the job’s finished, we’re both going to have one. Shall I tell you something? I’m at it early myself because I mean to finish by Friday night so that we both have a carefree week-end.” He patted her shoulder and turned away. Pulling out a key-ring, he went over to the big safe. “Dr. Craig.” “Yes?” He glanced back. “I suppose you will think it is none of my business, but I feel”—she hesitated—“there are… dangers.” Craig faced her. The boyish gaiety became disturbed. “What sort of dangers?” Camille met his glance gravely, and he thought her eyes were glorious.
