’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought. ’ That arrested her. Before very long I hope to have definite work. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. His face will be all I need.
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