THIRTY-THREE
I simply reacted. My life recently had consisted mostly of intruders trying to kill somebody or other, and my reflexes assumed that anyone who sneaked up without announcing themselves had to be up to no good. My habit of hauling large stacks of books from place to place had given me a strength of upper body that startled most people, more so for the layer of cushioning that concealed the muscles. I twisted, and my right hook knocked Sir Hannibal onto his bum with a bloodied nose.
He blinked up at me. Panic was too mild a word for the look on his face.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’m so sorry, you frightened me. Here, let’s get that seen to.’
I extended a hand, but he picked himself up without taking it.
‘I really thought you were a creepy-crawly,’ I elaborated.
