Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. Some of them are now buried at the bottom of the Thames. She missed them already. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. I won’t even ask. Never really thought about Him—people don’t.
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