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’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. He was still thickly clad in jeans. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. ‘Don’t be too sure,’ responded Major Gerald Alderley on a dry note. "But, pardon my intrusion. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. Beethoven; he’s the best of them. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. “Pray accept my apologies. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache. . ’ ‘You surprise me.
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