He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. Anna was married. He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. " "Not your only chance, Thames," returned Jack, in the same undertone; "but your best. ” He unfolded his serviette with fingers which shook all the time. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it.
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