So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Ann Veronica surveyed his sloping back for a moment, and then drew her microscope toward her. I’ll take over here. “Have you anything to ask the witness?” asked the helpful inspector. “So very clear and cold,” she said. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch.
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