"I'm armed; you are not. ’ 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. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. “Limp,” he answered. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. The second look told me I was wrong.
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