Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. Trenchard was tempted to examine the contents of some of these cases, but a closer inspection made him recoil from them in disgust. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. “If it is a choice between the two,” she answered, “I must be Annabel Pellissier.
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