Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. I’m not sure if Janine cared. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. ‘Oh, peste. Well, it had to happen somewhen. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Capes was irritatingly judicial in the matter, neither absurdly against, in which case one might have smashed him, or hopelessly undecided, but tepidly sceptical.
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