’ It was thus in stony silence that the pair traversed the short distance to Stratton Street, where Roding knocked on the major’s door and entered a pleasant woodpanelled hall, with his prisoner firmly in tow. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. The van started with a jerk and rumbled on its way. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway. En tout cas, why had he not returned? She pondered the question as, later, she paced about her favourite retreat. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. All the village was assembled in the churchyard.
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