From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. She could not see clearly. “I’ll be here at one in the morning. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence.
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