Chapter 12 No.12

FROM a distinctly precarious perch-one foot on the back of a chair, the other on an oak chest-Blake surveyed the unfurnished salon of the fifth-floor appartement. His coat was off, in one dusty hand he held a hammer, in the other a picture, while from between his lips protruded a brass-headed nail.

"If I drive the nail here, boy, will you be sat