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Page 70 When you call Grimstone to tell him you’re taking the car, he asks you to stop over that evening. You set out for his house right after dinner with you miniature high-intensity flashlight tucked in your pocket. Somehow you think you may need it. Walking up to the great oak door of the huge Victorian house, you think back the first time you came here—the night of Harlowe Thrombey’s murder. Things have changed a lot since then. A high wrought-iron fence now surrounds the property. Thick cedar hedges have been planted so that it’s not possible to see any of the ground-floor windows from the street. The place resembles a fortress more than a gentleman’s Estate. As you approach the hours, you hear fierce barking. Startled you turn. For the first time you notice the large dog pen attached to one side of the house. Two huge mastiffs are raging at you from the other side of a chain-link fence. You shudder to think what would happen if they got out. The front door opens before you reach it. A hulking, square shouldered man appears. His stiff bristly hair looks like steel wool. A grotesque smile is fixed on his face. Turn to page 74