They were moving towards the exit when there came the sharp crack and flash of a Press camera. A pretty Chinese girl in Jamaican dress was lowering her Speed Graphic. She came up to them. She said with synthetic charm, "Thank you, gentlemen. I am from the Daily Gleaner." She glanced down at a list in her hand. "Mister Bond, isn't it? And how long will you be with us, Mister Bond?"犦+媓p朶?yWh\-<)庐<┗嵧i碙鍤╤(ǚ笲1颌瑲yv?;簮LRdw?#9T茄蕎骎,婤arbara. Hark, there is a knock at the door. Peep through the shutters, Ratty, and see who it is.
`You noticed? A Lambretta. They have a whole fleet of them for their little men, the men I call ``The Faceless Ones''. They look so alike, we have never managed to sort them out. Little gangsters, mostly stinking Bulgars, who do their dirty work for them. But I expect this one kept well back. They don't get up close to the Rolls any more since the day my chauffeur stopped suddenly and then reversed back as hard as he could. Messed up the paintwork and bloodied the bottom of the chassis but it taught the rest of them manners.'
Lady Anna, 1874 1200 0 0