23
Day arrived at the Elias house just after six thirty. The sea in front of it was glittering from the westerly wind that now blew towards the land, fluttering the Greek flag that waved from the end of the roof. A sign had appeared announcing opening hours for the coming summer season. Day saw that closing time was always four o’clock.
As Day approached, the door was opened by Petros Tsifas. A tall man, Tsifas wore casual trousers and shirt, and moved with natural grace. He had the calm manner of a natural host, and spoke softly with inherent gentleness. He and Day had got on well from the start. Day couldn’t have wished for a better person to facilitate his research, to help him find a way to approach the life of the historian and get a feel for the man and his work.
“I’m sorry I’m a
