THE UNIVERSITY BAR was well patronised; Babbington wasn’t the only one among the staff who liked a drink or ten, it seemed.
Rafferty wended his way through the crowd, until he spotted some familiar faces.
Doctors Charles Wantage and Eleanor Simmondson, with her baby bump much in evidence, welcomed him like a conquering hero. ‘Inspector Rafferty! Join us,’ cried Wantage. ‘We’re celebrating that you got your man.’
Their celebratory mood jarred a little. He glanced at Llewellyn and felt a wry amusement that he should share the sentiment. ‘Aren’t your celebrations a little premature? Professor Babbington hasn’t been convicted yet.’
‘Still, you must be confident he will be.’ Dr Simmondson’s face was suddenly marred by a frown. She put her hand on her bump, and glanced at her neighbour, appa
