In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. . It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. “What has she told you?” “Everything. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty. It was at lunch when McClintock announced that in the mailpouch he had found a letter addressed to Howard Taber, care of Donald McClintock and so-forth. The last piece was Scheherazade.
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