Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. “Amazing. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. He filled the rôle of comrade which Spurlock dared not enact, at least not utterly as he would have liked.
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