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Under the Rug

Mike and I left Susan on the second floor, getting ready to start with my room and Isaac’s, and went on to the third floor. The poor man halted at the doorway, gaping at the mess around, speechless. I walked in, looking around too. With the two big shelves up again, the work left was plenty but easier.

We decided we should start by clearing the furniture from the front half of the room, so we could pick up all the books Cristine had been throwing around and clean that side. Then we’d move everything over to that side to work on the other half of the study.

We’d been working for about twenty minutes, trading occasional comments, when I thought he might know something about the water diviner marks.

“D’you know if there was a well in the grounds? One that was dug shortly after the inauguration of the Manor?”

Our newfound trust made him take my question like one of my usual weird inquiries, surely related to the ghosts or s

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