The familiar sound of the waves crashing against the shore a short distance in front of him, repetitive and soothing, acted like a balm. Feeling strangely at one with nature, he gazed into the inky blackness, breathing deeply and tasting the salt driven on the sea breeze stinging his lips. Smoking a cigar, Felix considered all he’d seen since arriving at Riverside House. Grinning wryly, he made a mental note to tell Perkins that, in spite of his best efforts to dress him down, he was still by far the most elegantly attired man in the house. Perkins would be highly gratified. His amusement abated as he mulled over the characteristics of the people he’d met that evening, convinced now that if Mrs. Eden was communicating with her father, she could only do so with the help of an intermediary. If? Surprised at the unexpected turn his thoughts had taken, he sat a little straighter. Since when had he entertained any doubts as to her complicity?
