’ 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 did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. Their conversation became stilted. “You see, I will take your arm.
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