” “Well, he was presumptuous,” Annabel remarked, “and he wasn’t nice about it. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. "You're in danger.
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