Authors: Margaret Duffy
“I dropped the balloon seller before he had the chance to fire again the Mauser he had pulled from his pocket,” he said regarding us both carefully. “Luckily for everyone the pin stayed in the grenade Hartland was holding. Luckily for you Major,” he added.
The numbness was wearing off in my leg to be replaced by something quite excruciating. I began to shiver.
“Otherwise I might have been forced to lie and say that I’d killed him,” the Colonel observed, his tone severe.
“Surely I shouldn’t have to lecture you of all people on allowing your feelings to take control.”
Kneeling beside me on the pavement, Patrick also shivered.
*
It was another week before I found out where Patrick had been during those two lost weeks at the beginning of April. He had flown to the States and visited the clinic where he had been fitted with his artificial leg for a minor repair. Also, in his other rôle as my agent, he had purloined the rough draft of
A
Man
Called
Celeste
from my desk and sold the film rights.
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Death of a Raven
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