“I wouldn’t dream of it. I am agog at your initiative.” The man glanced at the silent Creighton. “I do believe your earlier suggestion is spot on,” he said, and rather randomly quoted what Maddie reckoned was probably a line from Kipling. “‘Only once in a thousand years is a horse born so well fitted for the game as this our colt.’” “Bear in mind,” said Creighton soberly, holding the other man’s magnified eyes with his own over the top of his steepled fingers, “these two work well together.” clk/sd & w/op Bloody Machiavellian English Intelligence Officer playing God.
