7Emilie sat alone in the sitting room waiting for Henry Dulton. On his card, written in the thin spidery writing which she knew so well, were inscribed the words,
I will call on you at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.
She read the sentence over and over again, striving to find in it some meaning but the obvious one – that he had recognised her and was coming to claim her acquaintance.
All night she had tossed sleeplessly on her bed, trying to think how she could delude and circumvent him or how she could keep him quiet for at least a few more weeks.
To the last question she knew the answer. Money! She could recall all too vividly Henry Dulton’s greed for money, the way he would undertake any commission, however squalid and unpleasant, if it was made worth his while.
She could see him
