“‘I’d like you to accompany me, Faro. Have a look at it.’ A stifled sob from Mary Faro. Stavely was regarding him intently. ‘Of course.’ Faro was puzzled, but without another word the sergeant turned on his heel and led the way out of the lodge, walking quickly down to the shore, ignoring Faro’s attempts at conversation as if he had suddenly turned stone deaf. The fog shroud had lifted, leaving a solid-looking, heavy, iron-grey sea, a chilling wind. A scene so melancholy that it seemed t...he island was in mourning. The shore was deserted apart from what appeared to be a bundle of clothes lying near the water’s edge. Closer, the bundle suggested the fur of a drowned animal but, as they walked rapidly towards it, became a bundle of clothes which took ominous shape. Faro’s sigh of relief was short-lived as he recognised, neatly folded on top, the elegant blue velvet cloak with its beautiful fur-lined hood that Celia Prentiss-Grant was wearing as she walked away from him on the beach less than twelve hours ago.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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