He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. ’ 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. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable.
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