‘I see,’ Miss Trent said thoughtfully. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re right. But in the meantime I suppose we might wake Mr Theaker and ask him for this major’s address. After all . . .’

She stopped speaking. Jimmy’s hearing had always been acute and now it was heightened by his fear for his sister. He put a finger to his lips, and even as he did so Miss Trent too heard what had caught Jimmy’s attention. Footsteps! Someone was walking along the pavement, and even as she glanced towards the curtained window there was the squeak of the gate being pushed open and shut and then, before they could do more than exchange terrified glances, the sound of someone’s key in the lock, and a muttered curse when it did not immediately turn. The front door creaked slowly open. ‘Hide!’ Miss Trent hissed to Jimmy, who immediately dived under the bed, whilst she herself walked boldly into the corridor, saying clearly, ‘Who’s that? How dare you come into a private house without even knocking, using what is no doubt a stolen key?’ And without more ado she blocked the man’s way. Then turned her head to speak over her shoulder: ‘Will someone fetch the police? This man is trespassing.’

Chapter 5

MISS TRENT’S HEART was beating so hard that she thought the intruder must surely hear it, but he made no move to come further into the house; indeed he backed off. It was dark in the passage and the moonlight behind him made it impossible for Miss Trent to see him as anything but a dark shadow – a fairly tall, broad man in a dark coat and cap. But as she moved forward to shut the door in his face he spoke.

‘Don’t call the scuffers, miss,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s me, Frank Bloggs. Oh, Gawd, miss, wharra start you gave me! Mrs Stockyard told me the house would be empty and I’d have to go to relatives till New Year’s Day – she never said no word about you being here. But I’ve no family left in these parts, so now she’s gone I thought mebbe I could manage here on me own.’

Miss Trent pulled the door wide and ushered the young man inside. ‘You can come out, Jimmy,’ she called. ‘This isn’t an intruder, it’s another of Mrs Stockyard’s lodgers.’ She turned back to Mr Bloggs. ‘I’d better introduce you to my young friend, who’s spending the holiday with me.’ She paused a moment before opening the door of her room wide, giving Jimmy a chance to wriggle out from under the bed, which he did with promptitude. ‘Jimmy, this is Mr Bloggs, who works for the railways; he has one of the upstairs rooms. Mr Bloggs, this is Jimmy Trewin.’

‘Nice to meet you Mr Bloggs,’ Jimmy said. The two shook hands, eyeing one another covertly, in the warm light of the paraffin lamp.

Miss Trent smiled to herself. ‘Come in and sit down, Mr Bloggs, and let me put you in the picture,’ she said. ‘It seems that Mrs Stockyard lied in order to keep us out of her house, but here we are and here we’ll stay.’