CHAPTER SIXMacdonald was awakened very early in the darkness of a December morning by the promised phone call from the ever-wakeful meteorologists: he was told to cheer up—the fog was lifting. Officially and unofficially the grimy pall was yielding to a westerly air stream. You could see the stars over Salisbury Plain and a waning moon had been hailed from the Wolf Rock Lighthouse, he was told by his friendly informant, who ended by chanting: “Rise and shine! Six o’clock on a perishing winter morning.”
Macdonald did his best to make his thanks sound enthusiastic, switched on the electric fire and kettle, and tried to feel grateful. While the kettle was boiling he rang C.O. to find out if any reports had come in during the night and was told about young Henry Brown. While the chief inspect
