” Annabel yawned. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. But if his frame was immature, his looks were not so. Blood and bone, body and spirit, she is selfish through and through. ‘Expect? He’s had a twenty-four hour watch on Remenham House these two days. The room seemed a vacuum. She held out both her hands. She entered the room in the shadows. I cut off her limbs so that she would not escape. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London.
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