I asked about it, and he called the conversation premature.

His calmness made me doubt the shape of my questions.

I knew I had not signed, yet I found myself searching for a less offensive way to say it.

He put the folded paper under his tablet.

I asked for it back.

He gave it to me with a small, impatient movement.

Later, while he was in the basement, I went into the study.

I knew about the brass key in an old tobacco tin in the desk drawer.