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The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. It now occurred to him that she had always been fully dressed. “Which one?” “The Miss Pellissier in whose rooms you were, and who sings at the ‘Unusual,’” Courtlaw answered. I called myself Anna. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. “Forgive me, madam,” he said stiffly, “but in such a case as this it is better that nothing in the room should be disturbed until the arrival of the police. It’s these damned novels.
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