Chapter 62

All the fight seemed to have gone out of him: he was broken. And when I looked at the others they seemed broken, too—stunned with the incredible thing that had happened. That Drummond, the invincible, should have met his match at last—should be sitting there as a helpless prisoner—had shattered them. It was as if the Bank of England had suddenly become insolvent. And it was like Peter Darrell to try and comfort him. “Cheer up, old son,” he said lightly. “If that nigger hadn’t caught you unawares from behind, you’d …