Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. Wood. And she is very young, younger than her years. ’ 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. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips. "It was some time before I could get him to move.
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