In the studio/workshop, from the top of a venerable oak table, a retired archivist, who had with some difficulty entered via the overgrown garden and the hinged workshop back window, picked up Exhibition of Paintings by the Late William Keith, a leather-bound 1913 first edition catalog. Kendrick Macgillivray opened it to a page on which Keith himself stared to where Caydance and her brother's French colleague Nicolas St. Denis stood quietly together, "Yes, this is the book I gave Treharne the last time I saw him, but except for his beach painting on the wall, where are Ted's paintings?

"The watercolor hung on the wall is painted by an artist whose name I think is French; the art school reminiscent drawing on the easel is clearly relatively recent. Otherwise, I have found no other paintings. Was Ted himself an artist?"

arrow Kendrick walked to the wall-hung painting, reached up, took it down. There are signature elements that lead me to identify this work as a mature Treharne."

Nico spoke in the silence. That beach is the beach of la Madeleine in Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Utah Beach, about how it looked a few decades or so after D-Day, when with my parents, I visited it as a child. The rough gray paint strokes are the ruins of Nazi bunkers.