The remark struck Andrew hard. He leaned in, pressing, “So he might have been involved with intelligence work?” The clerk shrugged. “Possible. But those files are sealed, and will likely remain sealed for decades. Best not to pry too deeply. Some things were meant to stay classified forever.”
Walking through the village, Andrew overheard whispers. Two men outside the pub spoke in low tones: “That’s the estate’s new master. That place’s cursed.” “Didn’t his uncle’s wife fall down the stairs?” “Fall, my foot. He pushed her.” The venom in their voices sent a chill racing up Andrew’s spine.