With her sledge held under one arm Cassandra battled her way up the slope. Halfway up she paused to rest against the frost-crept trunk of a crooked birch and stood listening to her torn breathing, the soundless hush of the fields below filling up with...

He turned away from the group and went quickly down the road and on into the woods. A voice called Bradley behind him, but he paid it no heed. He began to move faster and faster until he was almost running full-tilt through the trees,...

Part I London, 1982 Like a dog come running at his master’s whistle, I RSVP’d yes on an invitation to Vernon Copeland’s Halloween party to view his latest acquisition. A lost piece of cinema from the early ’20s, a screen test hitherto undiscovered, et cetera, et cetera....

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