6
Cyril let Jan and Greg into the hallway of his well-maintained suburban bungalow. An enticing aroma of cooking—herbs and meat and bread—drifted from the kitchen-diner. He waved a hand in the direction of the smell.
"There was a time when my wife cooked just for the family. Since we retired, it seems she's baking for the entire street,” the tall, lean and slightly stooped man explained with a quick smile. “She's making traditional Cornish pasties this afternoon. As much as I enjoy her cooking, I prefer using my free time to engage in more mysterious things."
"Traditional Cornish pasties?" Greg inhaled deeply and smiled. "Takes me back to my youth."
Jan shot him a quizzical glance, but he didn't elaborate.
Cyril led them into a sitting room crammed with books of every size and age; th
