CHAPTER TENThe Holbrook Clinic was crying out for money, that much was obvious as Rafferty and Llewellyn drove through the open gates. The grounds were a lot smaller than at the Elmhurst Sanatorium, but they were badly neglected. Couch-grass pushed through the gravel of the drive and the only plants were hardy shrubs that were capable of looking after themselves. As Gilbert had said, there were no gymnasiums or Jacuzzis here.
The Victorian buildings, too, had a shabby air of rather faded grandeur and, like the minor gentry from that era, attempts were made to keep up appearances; like the freshly-painted black metal gates and the smartly-uniformed gate-porter—surface shows that cost little. But the further one penetrated, the harder the pretence was to keep up, and no attempt had been mad
