277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. She reloaded. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. ‘What do you think?’ ‘What do I think?’ repeated Captain Roding. ’ ‘Gammon!’ burst from the captain, who had just tossed off a glass of Madeira. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. ’ Gerald laughed and clapped him on the back. Last night there had been no time.
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