Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. "I might return the question. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. He waved to her. But it is the truth.
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