. ’ Gerald’s eyes never left the girl. ‘Assuming she can prove her identity, does Remenham House belong to her?’ Mrs Sindlesham shifted her shoulders. She noticed right away that Sheila was a two-sided coin. It would have saved me much circumlocution, and you some suspense. The inn was a military haunt. The marriage cannot—shall not be delayed. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Men of action by the scarlet coats with their grey facings—insignia of the county militia. “Please stop by.
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