D.M. Devine Bibliography
I WAS DEEP in an arm-chair, relaxing over the Guardian crossword, when the telephone rang. Recognising from the tone that it was the office extension and not the exchange, I was tempted to let it go unanswered, but thought better of it. One didn't do that sort of thing to Oliver. So I got up reluctantly and went out to the hall. I must have left a window open somewhere, for the fog had now seeped in and was spreading its tentacles through the house. In the distance I could hear the Trenton foghorn; nearer at hand the rumbling of a bus, interrupted suddenly by a crunching noise, the tinkle of glass and a rush of excited voices. The telephone continued to ring. I lifted the receiver. " Simon? Look here, I'm at the office and something rather urgent has turned up. Could you possibly slip along for a few minutes? " " For God's sake, Oliver, do you realise what time it is? And what sort of night it is? Won't it keep till———" I broke off, for he wasn't listening. He never did. I could hear a faint murmuring and guessed that he had his hand over the mouthpiece and was talking to someone else in the room. Presently his voice came back, suave and dominant as ever. " Well, this really is rather urgent. So if you could just nip across. . . ." I started to reply, but there was a click and the line was dead.
Classic Crime Fiction
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