Her Uncle James Devereaux met her at the door when the middle-aged driver who had met her at the airport dropped her on the wide veranda of the mansio...."It's so good to see you, Uncle Jim," she cried, throwing her arms around his strong neck and feeling the rasp of his afternoon shadow of beard on her tender cheek. His was a comforting avuncular embrace, the feel of his body, in spite of his wealth hardened by his activities on his ranch, pressing his strong, paunchy belly against her own lean. For some reason, the wording of what little information there was, disquieted me.I dug out her number from the files, and rang her up."Hello" she answered.At first I wasn't sure I had the right number. Gwen was usually a very bright and cheerful person, This voice sounded very depressed, so out of character I didn't recognise it."Hello, I'm trying to reach Gwen Wilson." Speaking," she replied."Ah, hello, Gwen. This is Doctor Benson. I was wondering if I could speak to you about Mort." I ... I. More

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