The woman stretched both her hands out and the priest gave her the cup.
“The wine of ecstasy gives joy to your body and soul.”
She raised the cup to her lips. Her head tipped back until the last drop must have been drained. Suddenly she...
The Sommita lay spread-eagled on her back across a red counterpane. The bosom of her red biblical dress had been torn down to the waist and under her left breast, irrelevantly, unbelievably, the haft of a knife stuck out. The right arm, rigid as...
Among the guests at the Plume of Feathers on the memorable evening of the murder were a West End matinée idol, a successful portrait painter, an Oxford-educated farmer’s daughter, a radical organizer and assorted rustics and villagers. Each...