The Stranger House. Reginald Hill

along, down a little corridor and through another door which wouldn’t have looked out of place in a dungeon.

      The room it opened into had a flagged floor with at its centre a vaguely oriental-looking circular carpet whose yellow-and-umber design stood out boldly against the grey granite. On it stood four wooden armchairs around a low oak table. The effect was rather theatrical, as though a single spot were lighting up the action area of an open stage. A huge fireplace almost filled one wall. No fire was needed today, but a tall vase full of multi-coloured dahlias burnt on the hearth and above the fireplace was the same coat of arms he’d seen over the entrance door.

      As he took the chair Woollass indicated, Madero began to feel the past crowding in and sense other shadowy presences in the room which if he relaxed and admitted them might let themselves become more visible. But for the moment, he wanted to concentrate on his host and this unexpected nun who’d sat down on his left.