“Here we are then”, said Christina, not much to look at is it?”
Dexter looked around as he drove into the tiny village, (hamlet would have been a better description he thought), and inwardly groaned. The place made Vilna look like a thriving metropolis! The road on which they had travelled hadn't been much to speak of, but here it just deteriorated into nothing but a muddy morass with hard snow mixed into it, surrounded by a few cottages, a minuscule church (the cross on the roof being the only thing to outwardly distinguish it from the cottages), and (horror of horrors), an inn, once again without a name, just the hanging sign with the picture of a tankard giving away the building's purpose, and even smaller than the one in Vilna (if such a thing were possible). He suddenly realised that
