Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black.
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