‘And now, monsieur le major—’ ‘I will see you to the door,’ Gerald said, looking with interest at the building that his observant groom had told him housed a small collection of nuns. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. Ah Coom. Murder had become nothing to her. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand.
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