Deep silences came between them. ‘Oh, you may come to me on any mission you like,’ uttered Mrs Sindlesham roguishly. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. “Glad to see you in London.
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