He called a waiter. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. He would have to return to Hong-Kong; and his trail would be picked up the moment he set foot on the Praya. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. ‘That’s my pet name. Out of sight of that tell-tale window, the two officers darted across the grounds, speedily gaining the lee of the mansion walls.
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