’ 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. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. The Iron Bar. “What else did Michelle say?” “She said that the guy was all broken up about it, that he had another woman on the side or something. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. ” “Who cooked it all?” He asked. ‘Soldier of fortune.
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