"I didn't hear what you were saying anyway," she murmured.
"Good." Mo stared out of the window as if Dustfinger were
still standing in the yard. Then he rose and went to the door.
"Try to get some sleep," he said.
But Meggie didn't want to sleep. "Dustfinger! What sort of a
name is that?" she asked. "And why does he call you Silvertongue?"
Mo did not reply.
"And this person who's looking for you I heard what
Dustfinger called him. Capricorn. Who is he?"
"No one you want to meet." Her father didn't turn around. "I
thought you didn't hear anything. Good night, Meggie."
This time he left her door open. The light from the hallway
fell on her bed, mingling with the darkness of the night that
seeped in through the window, and Meggie lay there waiting for
the dark to disappear and take her fear of some evil menace away
with it. Only later did she understand that the evil had not
appeared for the first time that night. It had just slunk back in
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...