’ 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. She looked at her flattened belly. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. You shall hear from me to-morrow. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find. Gerald hoped he had covered all options and had resisted the temptation to pay mademoiselle a visit. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already.
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