’ ‘It’s no use blaming me, Gerald,’ uttered Roding, shrugging helplessly as his senior turned questioning eyes on him. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. A man’s children nowadays are not his own. "You two … both of you! But for you I couldn't have done it.
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