Chapter TwentyWe were alone. Macfarlane and MacGregor had temporarily taken charge of Findhorn, and his cronies and Mungo had given Marie and the young girl something to make them sleep. I leaned back in Mungo's chair and allowed the warmth of the fire soak into my battered body. Opposite me, Mungo nursed his glass. I watched the firelight play with the red claret.
'Well, Mungo,' I said. 'We've had some wild times.' I waited for him to say something although in truth I did not know what he could say.
'We have, Dorothea,' he said. 'And if things were different,' he paused and repeated, 'if things were only different.'
I prompted him. 'If things were only different, Mungo, what?'
The smile lit up his ugly, battered face. 'If I had money or the hope of making it, I would be looking for a
