‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. ” She led the way, talking all the time to Ennison. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. Sheppard had been interred. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places.
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