I killed him, Nigel. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed.
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