He scooped up Michelle’s unconscious body. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. ’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. “How gratified she must have been! If only I had known I would have made an effort to get home in time for dinner. It probably still wouldn’t help. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest.
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