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‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. “I murdered them, John. Is that it? I thought this very pretty. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. ” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it.
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