Chapter ElevenGale Brandon drove a fast car very fast indeed. He said he had come to live at Whincliff because it offered the best selection of roads without any speed limit which he had so far been able to discover. There was no limit between Whincliff and Ledlington, yet on this particular morning he showed a disposition to dally.
‘How many presents do you want to get, and what sort of people are they for? Have you really got an Uncle Jacob and an Aunt Hephzibah?’
He turned his head to smile at her. A big, good-looking man in the early forties, with a ruddy tan on his skin and a bright dancing something in his eye—zest and humour always, anger sometimes. He said,
‘I certainly have, and they’ve got to have presents. Uncle Jacob likes a good crime story, so he’s easy—seven murders in th
