“One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. You’re a piss-poor liar, John. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. ‘Leave it, imbecile. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. She controlled herself, and answered meekly, “No.
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