Devorlane eased into the frayed maroon armchair, the most comfortable by far of all the chairs in the library, even if it did sag in the middle.
"A straight answer, my boy, would be appreciated." Lord Koorecroft had assumed the chair opposite. Now he set his cane to the side. "After all, I know Colonel Caruthers regards you as suitable spying material. He told me."
Maybe he did. Why the blazes should he do any more for the damned country with his leg in this state though, just because he spoke a little French and slept with anything? When Chessington should have been a pleasure palace by now? And this damned old fool was here to plague him? Christ he was in a bad enough way already.
"I said I would think it over. But this damnable wound ... detained me." He edged his leg into a more com
