Jason swore softly as yet another invisible rose-bush caught at the skirts of his greatcoat. He hadn’t thought Henrietta’s back garden had so many roses. At present he was in no case to appreciate the fragrance which floated on the still night air. In the dark it was difficult to disentangle himself. He was forced to remove his gloves, with the inevitable result that he scratched his hands. Biting back another curse, he moved on towards the house. He had nearly reached the back door when a heavy object thudded at his feet. “Hell and damnation!” swore a muffled voice above his head. By the dim glow of city lights reflected from the overcast sky, he saw a female form dangling from a rope of sheets, some eight feet from the ground. It was not Henrietta. Henrietta would never have used such language, let alone undertaken so hazardous an enterprise. “Drop. I’ll catch you,” he offered in a carrying whisper. “Angus?” “No, but I’m happy to be of service, ma’am.” “I warn you, I’m no light weight, but I cannot hang on any longer.”
What do You think about The Road To Gretna (1992)?
