Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. The Return. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. He had chosen his time well.
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