If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too late. ‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room.
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