CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Elmhurst Private Sanatorium might now be called "Green Lawns" now, and be under different ownership, but as Llewellyn drove through the gates, Rafferty saw that the place looked much the same as he remembered from when it had been the scene of an earlier murder.
The hushed air, that in a noisy modern world, only the wealthy could afford, still hovered over the manicured lawns, their well-nourished lushness emphasised by the light dressing of December snow.
Even the gate-porter to whom they had shown their identification was the same. Rafferty searched his memory for his name. Then it came to him. Gilbert—that was it. From what he knew of the man, he was surprised he still had his job.
After enquiring at the reception desk, they were directed down a thickly carpeted
