Chapter Six
AS HARRY UTTERED NIGEL’S name, the hot tea jerked from Rafferty’s cup and scalded his hand. He cursed, leapt from his seat and hurried through to the kitchen to run cold water over it. As the water gushed over his puckering flesh, he muttered to himself, ‘How did he guess? How did I give myself away? What did I miss?’
But the damage was done. And little as he relished the prospect of Harry grilling him, he could hardly remain in the kitchen posing questions when Harry was the only one who knew the answers.
When he had sat down again, Harry held out a piece of paper. Rafferty looked at it for several seconds before he took it, as gingerly as if he feared it might suddenly grow a mouth and bite him. And as he looked at the paper, he suddenly found himself having to fight for b
