By Barry Reid
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Only one wall lamp was lit, making a cone of light in the middle of the car. Harry sat down in a tufted armchair beneath the lamp and took a cigar from his breast pocket. He held it in his hand unlit. You could really hear the rain back here, drumming on the roof and slamming at the windows. Harry slouched in the chair. "Let's consider Jennie first," he said inside his head. "Was she really sent out here to do some newspaper articles on Dr. " Or had the reporter somehow gotten wind of the fact that the Mariotts had hired him?
You've been most kind," said the dark-haired young woman, who'd introduced herself as Naida Strand. She sat, dark cloak still wrapped around her, in a carved wooden chair close to the heatless fireplace. Carved serpents chased frightened hares up the thick legs of the chair. " She held both pale hands out to the thin fire. They were in the parlor of her cottage, a stunted gray-stone and red-tile place on the edge of town. The walls were a dead white color, slanting oddly inward, as though the room had been designed by someone with a faulty sense of perspective.
People keep calling me that," murmured Harry, watching the departure. "Thank you," said the dark-haired young woman. She was standing now, cloak wrapped tight around her. She was tall, nearly as tall as Harry, and quite attractive. " "Only a mile or so," she answered. " "Very well," she said, smiling faintly. " She put her hand on his proffered arm. He could feel the coldness of her touch through his coat sleeve. THE PRISONER OF BLACKWOOD CASTLE 45 CHAPTER 11 Harry dropped more sticks into the small fireplace.