Get on top? Ambling along the corridor, Flint wondered how even his twisted mind could have conceived such a thing. Even by his own unexacting standard of lowness, he'd plumbed a whole new depth. He pushed open the door to the Blue Chamber. This place was nice. Not quite his taste. But comfortable.

He closed the door and poured a glass of rum from the bottle that now stood on the washstand. As if the best place for it was down the sink.

The saw of crickets, dwindling ...