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It was beginning to snow Huge, soft flakes drifted down, caught in the street lahts of cars The forecast was for a storht This was just the vanguard, the first hints of as to come

Quebec City was never lovelier than in a storical kingdo Fresh and clean, a world unsullied, unot out his key Through the lace curtains on the door they could see Henri hiding behind a pillar, watching

Gaht his mind back to the case The curious case of the woman in Champlain’s coffin

Who was she, and what happened to Chao? Seemed his explorations didn’t end with his death

Once inside Gamache took Henri for a walk and when he returned Émile had set the laptop on the coffee table, put out a bottle of Scotch, lit the fire and aiting

The elderly man stood in the center of the rooid

"What is it, Émile?"

"I’d like to watch the video with you"

"Now?"

"Now"

All through the walk the Chief Inspector had been preparing himself for this The cold flakes on his face had been refreshing and he’d stopped and tilted his face up, closing his eyes and opening histhat," Morin said "But the snow has to be just right"

"You were a connoisseur?" the Chief asked

"Still a, fluffy kind The ones that just drift down None of the hard, so up your nose and get in your ears Get everywhere No it’s the big ones you want"

Gamache knehat he meant He’d done it himself, as a child Had watched Daniel and Annie do it Children didn’t need to be taught, it seeue

"There’s a technique, of course," said Morin in a serious voice, as though he’d studied it "You have to close your eyes, otherwise the snow gets in thele" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true"></ins>