The trip was arranged quickly, without fanfare, Thorn hiring a private jet in order to depart from London and arrive in Rome on runways blocked to public access. In the hours before their departure, Jennings busied himself in gathering research material: several versions of the Bible, three books on the occult. Thorn returned to Pereford to pack his bags, including a hat to mask his identity.

At Pereford, things were unusually quiet. As Thorn wandered through the empty house, he realized that Mrs. Horton was nowhere about. Her husband, too; the cars, were parked side by side in the garage with a certain finality.

"They're both gone," Mrs. Baylock said as Thorn entered the kitchen.

The woman was working over the sink, cutting vegetables, in the way that Mrs. Horton had always done.

"Gone out?" asked Thorn.

"Gone. Just up and quit. They left an address for you to send their last month's wages."

Thorn was shocked.

"Did they say why?" he asked.

"No matter, sir. I can carry on."

"They must have given a reason."

"Not to me, they didn't. But they didn't speak to me much, anyway. It was the man who insisted on going. I think Mrs. Horton wanted to stay."

Thorn gazed at her with troubled eyes. It frightened him to leave her alone in the house with Damien. But there was no remedy for it. He had to go.

"Can you carry on here if I leave for a few days?"

"I think so, sir. We've got enough groceries for a couple of weeks, and I think the boy will appreciate the peace and quiet in the house."

Thorn nodded and started to leave.

"Mrs. Baylock?" he asked.

"Sir?"

"That dog."

"Oh, I know, it'll be gone by the end of the day."

"Why is it still here?"

"We took it out to the country and let it go and it found its way back. It was at the door last night after .. . well, after the 'accident,' and the boy was pretty shook up and he asked if it could stay in his room. I told him you wouldn't like it, but under the circumstances I thought. . ."

"I want it out of here."

"Yes, sir. I'll call the Humane Society today."

Thorn turned to go.

"Mr. Thorn?"

"Yes?"

"How's the wife?"

"She's doing well."

"While you're gone, could I take the boy to see her?"

Thorn paused, studying the woman as she grabbed a kitchen towel and began drying her hands. She was the very picture of domesticity and he was suddenly confused as to why he so disliked her.

"I'd rather you didn't. I'll take him when I get back."

"Very good, sir."