She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. Gerald perhaps would know how to find him. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. Fortescue in the drawing-room, and actually shake hands with him in an entirely hopeless manner and hope everything would turn out for the best. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt.
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