Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. But she made no answer. Brendon suggests supper at the Carlton. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. That is very bad, certainly, and for this he was extremely sorry. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. The stranger turned his head at the sound. ‘I must. ” An immense gulf seemed to open between father and daughter as he said these words.
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