Chapter 18Walter Graves sat in the bar of Meare Manor, his brow etched with a frown that showed no sign of disappearing. He was sipping his second large brandy of the evening somewhat absent-mindedly, as though the warming liquid in the glass were nothing more than a prop to sustain his presence in the comfortable surroundings of the bar. His mind was obviously elsewhere as he appeared oblivious to the various comings and goings around him as other guests entered or left the bar, even managing to avoid the cheery 'Good evening' launched in his direction from an elderly, slightly rotund gentleman of the old school, complete with handlebar moustache and navy blue blazer sporting the badge of the Royal Air Force. Had he looked up and acknowledged the man, Graves would have made the instant as
