2: The Morning After
THE jangling of the telephone awakened Callaghan. He realised, vaguely, that it was morning, that his head was aching. He opened his eyes and switched on the electric light. He closed his eyes again quickly. After a while he opened them again and found he could keep them so without flinching.
He lay looking at the ceiling thinking about Doria Varette. He began to wonder about her. He remembered other women who had come into his existence through the medium of a case, played their part and then taken their exit. He remembered that most of his worst best cases or best worst cases had begun through a woman. Sometimes it had been amusing... sometimes not so amusing.
Pictures of Cynthis Meraulton— from the old Chancery Lane days; Thorla Riverton— who had started off by b
