” She glanced at Brendon, who stood by her side, tall and threatening. Considering his convictions he felt that his remark was a generous one. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ‘She won’t. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. ‘Very well, arrest me. Just. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks. ‘Am I right in supposing you to have been a sister to the late Mr Jarvis Remenham?’ ‘Quite right. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe.
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