‘There was a man asking for you this morning, sir, when you were out. Wouldn’t leave his name. Very insistent about that, he was.’ ‘What kind of man?’ Berlin enquired.‘Youngish man, sir. Not an undergraduate. Thirties, I’d say, though it’s hard to tell these days. They all look alike when you get...
‘You must help me.’I found Krasov sheltering inside a telephone box on the Barton Road. His black overcoat, briefcase and hat made him sharply visible through the glass of the kiosk. ‘My dear friend,’ he said. He took off his glove to shake my hand. ‘Forgive me for draggin...
Two young girls, laughing, their arms around each other one summer Sunday years ago on Margit Island, one blonde, the other with short dark hair (she had cut her hair for swimming). Dora aged five stands in front of them, leaning against her mother, looking solemn, her thumb in her mouth. They ar...