She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. He left Remenham House immediately after his wife died, giving birth to their daughter. "Crime upon crime. It’s well hidden, miss. Surely he was imagining this picture. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat.
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