Or We Could Wait for it to Rust

The obvious first place to look for Henry Hancock, the gentleman apparently in distress, is in his home, in the village he was staying at. After settling in to our accommodation the previous evening, we make our way up to the house to investigate.

We ring the bell, knock on the door, and get no reply. Checking all the doors and windows finds them all locked. The man cannot have simply disappeared, as his last letter to his son said, no doubt falsely, that all was well. Something is afoot.

'Castle could perhaps pick one of the locks to get us inside the house, where we could take a look around. He's done it before. I suppose.' It's true. Our private dick has the skills, but he seems rusty. It took him far too many attempts to break in to the bunker one night in New York, almost like he was waiting for dawn so that he could see what he was doing.

'We could let him try. Or it may be quicker to break a window and call for a glazier to replace the glass.'

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