“I found it—­er—­difficult to settle down to anything,” I said, after an instant’s hesitation.  “I couldn’t work there—­”

“But I thought you wrote that wonderful book on the Deaf and Blind while you stayed with me,” she asked innocently.

I stammered a little.  “Oh no, not then.  I only made a few notes—­er—­at The Towers.  My mind, oddly enough, refused to produce at all down there.  But—­why do you ask?  Did anything—­was anything supposed to happen there?”

She looked searchingly into my eyes a moment before she answered: 

“Not that I know of,” she said simply.