CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The front gate had been shouldered open in the days previous by the gendarmerie that the undertaker’s carriage might remove the bodies of the four young men. It now remained ajar, the authorities long gone, no indication of what had occurred behind its hewn rails.
Polidori pulled the rented cabriolet off the lane and onto the curb. With his right foot on the carriage apron and the reigns of the petite stallion held firmly in his hands, he turned to Mary.
“I think it best that we walk onto the property, as the track is not sufficient for the wheels of this vehicle.” The hood of the carriage had been folded back for the afternoon ride up into Sonzier, but Mary still held a light parasol above her head as she stared in deep thought toward the entrance.
It had been thre
