‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary. Then they rode off at speed. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. “Glaciers?” she said. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. “I’ve gotta go. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. I’m a man, and I know what I mean.
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