He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. From time to time, however, he was baffled. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. She paused.
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