He turned his attention back to Smith. "It's a nice old house," he said, hanging Smith's coat in a large closet under the stairs. "It's one of the real scenes around here."
"Yes," said Smith. "I've heard people talk about it."
"And Dean Claremont is a fine old man. He asked me to take care of things for him tonight."
Smith nodded.
Wren took his arm and guided him to the door he had pointed to earlier. "We need to meet later tonight to talk. Go in now. I'll be there in a minute.
Smith started to speak, but Wren had turned away to greet another group who had come in through the front door. Smith took a deep breath and opened the door to the main living room.
When he came into the room from the cold hall, the warmth pressed against him as if trying to push him back; the slow murmur of t
