“She was in a drowse, already half asleep.“There’s something I have to do.”“Didn’t we just do it? I’ve got a sore bum cheek as proof.”“Something I have to show you.”“Can’t it wait ’til morning? I’m tired.”“No. It has to be now. Now or never.”She rolled over, frowning at him quizzically. “What’s up?”Instead of replying, he hopped out of bed and fetched bathrobes for both of them. “Put this on. We’re going downstairs.”Downstairs they went, padding barefoot through the airy silence of the house. Pa...st the dining room and Barnaby’s study lay a door, panelled and painted white like all the others, innocuous-looking. It was situated between a bookcase filled with leather-bound first editions and a pedestal on which perched a gaudy Murano glass vase, its shape reminiscent of an orchid.“Have you ever been curious about this door?” he asked her.“Not particularly. Seen it a couple of times. I assume it leads down to the cellar, right?”“To the basement.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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