“Hello,” he said, after clearing his throat. He was thin, with brown hair that stuck up rambunctiously, despite generous applications of pomade, and a poor complexion. “Please excuse me for troubling you, Mrs. McKenna. My name is Walter Davis and I’m here about—about my grandfather.”

Bliss was puzzled. “How do you happen to know my name?” she asked.

Mr. Davis went ruddy. “I—I’ve inquired,” he stammered. “The fact is, Mrs. McKenna, I need to find a chemist—so that I might purchase my grandfather’s medicine—and—well—I do hesitate to leave the old fellow alone. I was wondering if you might stay with him, just for a few minutes?”

Bliss would have much preferred going on the errand, she so craved fresh air, but perhaps Mr. Davis had been shut up even longer than she had, looking after his sick grandfather and all. “All right,” she agreed with a polite nod.

Mr. Davis turned and opened the door across the hallway. “Thank you so much, Mrs. McKenna. I know Grandfather will enjoy meeting you.”

After only the briefest hesitation, Bliss preceded Mr. Davis into the other suite. Jamie would have said she was taking a foolish chance, but then, he had rather a suspicious mind. If it were up to him, she’d sit in the suite like a geranium on a windowsill, looking pretty and doing nothing.

A shriveled old man with white hair sat ensconced in the middle of the suite’s front room, like a king holding court. Bliss felt a chilly finger touch her soul when he smiled at her, but she shook the reaction off. She’d been spending too much time inside the hotel, that was all. She was getting skittish.

“Hello there, my dear,” the scratchy voice said, and one thin hand was extended. “It’s grand to finally meet you.”

Bliss worked up a smile as Mr. Davis began the introductions. “Grandfather, this is Mrs. James McKenna—”

The rheumy eyes seemed to flash beneath their heavy lids. “My name is Albert,” he broke in. “Albert Davis.”

The elder Mr. Davis’s grip was strong, despite his advanced age and the fact that he sat in an invalid’s chair. “Hello, Mr. Davis,” Bliss said politely, wondering how long it would take for the grandson to visit the chemist’s shop. The room was dark, since the drapes were pulled, and there was a musty smell in the air, along with an inexplicable sense of peril.

Bliss was relieved when the old man released his near-painful grasp on her hand.

“Do sit down,” he said as his grandson left the suite.

Bliss had ever believed in making the best of any situation. “Are you visiting Auckland, Mr. Davis?”

He smiled, revealing huge yellow teeth. They gave him a cadaverous look. “I’m here on business, Mrs. McKenna. Tell me—might I call you by your first name?”

Bliss looked longingly toward the drapes. Oh, to open them and let in God’s clean, bright sunshine. “I see no harm in that,” she replied politely, folding her hands in her lap.