“Did he tell you, Annabel?” “Yes. ’ Kimble gaped at her and Melusine struggled to pull herself out of the shock. She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. ‘Yes, I know. His appetite was perfectly Gargantuan. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend.
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