Chapter Twenty-Four
Llewellyn was silent as they walked away. Rafferty, rather than crow about his triumph, felt sorry for his sergeant. Llewellyn looked crushed that Babbington had proved to have feet of mud.
‘Cheer up,’ he said. Perhaps this would teach him not to admire men whose only virtue seemed to be a knowledge of some Greek or Roman geezer’s writing. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you
a—'
‘You know I don’t drink, so—’
‘A cup of tea, I was going to say. Lemon tea, with no sugar. Just how you like it. I’ll even throw in one of those disgusting health bars you seem so fond of.’
Llewellyn looked at him and his lips twitched ever so slightly, so Rafferty guessed he was attempting one of his smiles.
Llewellyn said faintly, ‘Thank you for not crowing.’
‘That’s alright.’ He patted Llewellyn o
