South Africa: November 15th, 1899 was a day I would remember all my life because this was the day I lost my rights as a free man and became a prisoner of war, a fate worse than an unwanted marriage. As the African sun beat down upon me I cursed the flimsy forage cap perched on the side of my head, which did nothing to protect my face and neck from the blistering heat. A rifle butt hit me between the shoulders…More–> |
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Chapter 10: After I am back at the Lostwithiel Nick, leaving the preserved remains of Hereward McCarthy with Mort the Mortician and Son of Mort, I call the Widow McCarthy and tell her that I will be round at her place within the hour. The fitting up of Lou the Lizard and his gang is uppermost in my mind, a policeman’s mind, and has to start with the peat bog and any secrets it might conceal….More–> |
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