"What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they plied her with a dozen requests. “Oh. “We banished his experiments to here in the basement from then on. Did you know you’re very maternal? Damn, you’re more maternal than my Mom. You didn’t even do that Vee; not even that. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready.
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