’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. More importantly, she had her wits. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world. A paralyzing horror was upon her.
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