’ 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. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. Mike’s a fireman and he’s got kids too. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own.
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