“Occasionally, however, when he drove in on business, he would collect the letters himself. That was what happened on Wednesday morning, when Venetia accompanied him to Ellisburg. She came out of the hairdresser’s to find the empty car at the kerb with a note attached to the wheel: “Have gone over to see Mervyn Mansfield. Won’t be long.”Venetia had become fairly well acquainted with the town. Mansfield’s office was down there on the right, above the bank. She sat in the car, combed the varnished... stiffness from the golden-brown hair, and slit the wrapping from the roll of glossy magazines. For ten minutes she scanned the glossy pages, and then looked up to see Blake on the opposite pavement conversing with a thick-set man of average height, whom she recognized as the elder Mansfield.The men parted, and Blake came and got into the car. She noticed him sniff, quickly trace the scent to her hair, and thereafter give his attention to manoeuvring the car between an ox-team dragging a log-laden cart and a straggle of native school-children.“Did you come across your letter?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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