She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. "I opened the padlock with this crooked nail, which I found in the floor.
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