Between the pages of the book were notes written fifty or so years ago.
Each one seemed as if it had been written to me, for me, and only me.
If this was correct, I wondered how they knew I would find this book in the small library of this ancient, distinguished and historic hotel.
I leave it behind me as a mystery.
No-one ever came forward to explain that invitation to stay in the royal suite for one week, any time I chose. Who it was from, why, how, and the reason, was unknown even to the hotel itself
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