CHAPTER 12I am not having lunch with you,” I said, when we’d got outside the tiny building.
“Oh yes, you are,” he said. “I’ll see you at two, Buck.”
I suppose Sergeant Buck gave the usual effect of saluting. I didn’t dare look at him.
“My car’s in Royal Street,” I said coldly. We walked through the market square. Colonel Primrose opened the car door and got in after me.
“I think the Anchorage in Queen Street is the best place,” he said. It wasn’t till he’d ordered that he relaxed in his chair and said, “Well?”
“Who have you decided to hang?” I inquired, acidly.
“No decision so far, my dear.”
He couldn’t have been more suavely affable.
“I’d almost decided not to bother. If anything happened to you, I could spend the winters in Honolulu. But I’m not going to let a murderer go scot-fr
