Only Time Will Tell (Clifton Chronicles Book 1)

by Jeffrey Archer

six months later, Hugo couldn’t help

changing the subject. “The latest radio,” said Giles without hesitation. “It’s called a Roberts Reliable.” “Are you allowed to have radios at school?” “Yes,” said Giles, “but you can only play them at weekends. If you’re caught listening after lights out or during the week, they get confiscated.” “I’ll see what I can do. Will you be coming home on your birthday?” “Yes, but only for tea. I have to be back at school in time for prep.” “Then I’ll try and drop in,” said

line. “It’s Hugo Barrington, Colonel.” “How are you, my boy?” asked the chief constable. “I’m well, sir. I was wondering if you could advise me on a private matter.” “Fire away, old fellow.” “I’m looking for a new head of security, and I wondered if you might be able to point me in the right direction.” “As a matter of fact I do know a man who might fit the bill, but I’m not sure if he’s still available. I’ll find out and give you a call back.” The chief constable was as good as his word, and phoned back the

Prendergast. Mitchell had advised him that if he hoped to keep the fact that he was the subject’s backer confidential, any meetings with Prendergast should be held in Barrington’s offices, and preferably after Miss Potts had gone home for the night. Hugo didn’t attempt to explain to Mitchell that he wasn’t sure if Miss Potts did go home at night. He was looking forward to the meeting with Prendergast, when he would administer the last rites, but there was someone else he needed to see before he could do that. * * * Mitchell was feeding Rosie when he arrived. Hugo walked slowly across, leaned on the railing and pretended to take an interest in the

placed two florins into the palm. “When I jump out,” said Giles, “just follow me, and then do exactly as I do.” Harry nodded. The taxi swung round the corner and slowed down for a moment just as Giles opened the door. He leaped out on to the pavement, toppled over, quickly picked himself up, then dashed into the nearest shop, throwing himself on the floor. Harry followed only seconds later, slammed the door behind him and was lying by his friend’s side just as the second cab shot around the corner. “Can I help you, sir?” asked a sales assistant, hands on hips, looking down at the two young

after all. In the front row sat Mrs. Clifton, who had clearly spent some time selecting her outfit

respect, and Chinese whispers broke out among the congregation as the

few weeks wrestling with my conscience before coming to this

Walter.

seaman, managed to pass it to the captain. Harry and the skipper took one end each and stumbled along the deck toward number four hold. Harry was puzzled what use an oar could possibly be against torpedoes, but this wasn’t the time to be asking questions. The captain charged on, past the Chinaman, who was on his knees, head bowed, praying to his God. “Get yourself into the lifeboat, now, you stupid bugger!” shouted Havens. Mr. Lu rose unsteadily to his feet, but didn’t move. As Harry staggered past, he shoved the man in the direction of the third officer, causing Mr. Lu to topple forward