His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. That’s the fact about them. ’ 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. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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