’ 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. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. “I want to show you something. And there arose too, a background of shouts. To call yourself ‘Alcide’! Your hair, your gestures, your voice, all mine! Oh, how dared you do it?” “You must not forget,” Anna said calmly, “that it is necessary for me also—to live. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand.
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