’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. He had his sections of the Siegfried map folded in his pocket, and he squatted up with his legs crossed like an Indian idol while she lay prone beside him and followed every movement of his indicatory finger. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly.
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