‘Sir?’ Hilary threw a brief glance at Trodger, and quickly returned his intent gaze to the Frenchman, who had halted once more, and stood as if thinking deeply. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. I hardly see you anymore. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. We men are like children. He was fast rising to an eminence that no one of his nefarious profession ever reached before him, nor, it is to be hoped, will ever reach again. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess.
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