“I hope you will not compel me to say again that I do not know the man’s name, nor, to the best of my belief, have I ever seen him before in my life. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street. “Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously.
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