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very, very lucky young man.”
    â€œSometimes it’s hard to see that.”
    â€œWell, you are. Now, let me take you on a little tour. And let me know if it’s too much.”
    Shortly, Thomas saw that he had been occupying only one tiny corner of 101 Lincoln Street. Keeping up a steady narrative, she pushed him from room to room, all polished opulence, lighting the gas lamps as she did so.
    â€œLet’s see how the air is this morning,” she said, and opened a set of double doors. A long, wide porch, well furnished with wicker, graced both sides of the house that faced Lincoln and Gambel Streets.
    â€œThis is my favorite place,” Alvi said. She let the chair nudge against the ornate white railing. “When we don’t have the fog, you can see all the way across to the islands. It’s magnificent.”
    The fog was so dense that he had difficulty seeing the Mercantile across the street. “And the clinic? Where is that from here?”
    â€œJust down the hill. Follow Gambel Street down past the grove of evergreens that the loggers somehow missed.”
    Thomas pushed the wheel forward. “I’ve…” He interrupted himself and pointed. The dark shadow plodded across toward them, head down, the rise of each bony shoulder marking his steps.
    â€œOh, that awful dog.” Alvi said. “I’ve never known such a disreputable creature. He seems to have an affinity for the muck.” She walked to the head of the steps. “You can just turn around and go home, Prince.” The dog ignored her, hesitating only when it appeared that his nose might actually bump against the first riser. He stood thus—whether pondering or calculating or simply blank, Thomas couldn’t tell.
    The door behind him opened, and the housekeeper appeared. “My soul, Alvina, what are you trying to do, kill this young man?” She pulled her own wrap more securely around her bony shoulders. “It’s the damp of the grave out here. For heaven’s sake, come in, now. Breakfast is ready.”
    â€œIt’s wonderful out here,” Alvi countered. “He needs some relief from being cooped up.”
    â€œWell.” Gert James started to argue, then saw the dog. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Will you go home,” she said, and clapped her hands sharply. “If Mr. Lindeman would feed you once in a while,” she added. Taking Thomas’ chair, Gert spun it around and pushed him toward the door. “Let’s get some food in you, too,” she said.

Chapter Ten
    Thomas Parks was astonished to find the prospect of bed welcome. The excursion to the bathroom and then managing an enormous breakfast had all been agonizing work.
    Back in the room, he found that his clothing had been neatly hung in the armoire and arranged efficiently in two of the drawers of the bureau. Wheeling the chair next to the wardrobe, he pushed the empty duffel to one side and searched for his black medical bag. It was missing. Perhaps it lay at the bottom of the inlet.
    An instant after struggling into bed, he awoke with a start, surprised and disoriented. The pungent fragrance of cooking seafood filled the house, and in a moment Alvi Haines appeared, her wrap showing signs of rain.
    â€œOh, good, you’re awake,” she said. As she approached the bed, Thomas could smell her damp woolens. “It’s positively nasty out. So tell me, what’s Connecticut like? It’s coastal, too, is it not? Is it the same as this, like the inside of a water bucket?”
    â€œYou’re joking, of course,” he said.
    She turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Why would that be? I’ve never been there.”
    â€œNever Back East? Good heavens. Well, it rains a good deal in Connecticut, too, of course,” Thomas said, “but more sunshine than here, I should think. By the way, I’m a bit concerned about my medical bag. There are some