Beth s ArmChapter 19
Alexander Beall sat waiting in Thomas Brookes' library before noon the next day. The weather had turned mild again with almost no wind to shake the leafless trees. Beall admired the neat rows of leather bound books and the framed prints of knights and kings. The room smelled of furniture oil and tobacco smoke. A neglected fire guttered in the small fireplace. The elder Mr. Brookes entered with a distinct limp, shook Beall's hand and poked at the fire. "Damn cold weather gets in my bones,...