You shall tell me if I am wrong. ’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. She shook her head. The attempt was unsuccessful. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. ’ ‘Voracious.
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