The castle clock struck as I came to the stable door: eight o’clock. I lifted the latch and went inside, feeling my way along the wall until I came to the door of a little room where I knew they kept things like brushes and saddle soap—and candles. I fumbled through the drawers until I found one and then made my way out and onto the back staircase. It wasn’t a route I’d used very often, since my work hadn’t taken me to the stables, but I knew it well enough. It was narrow and steep and filthy dirty—and pitch black. There was a small window at every floor, but this was the shadow-side of the castle, and precious little light—and dirty, secondhand light, at that—came in.

Then I had to creep along a corridor under the attics and down another staircase to the hall. This was the riskiest part of the whole journey. I waited, and held my breath, and rushed across to the fire and lit my candle; and then went swiftly under the stone archway that led to the tower and climbed the stairs to the study, guarding the flame from the drafts that streamed like ghostly flags from every crack in the wall. As I climbed, I wondered how long it would take the count to get back through the forest after leaving the girls in the lodge. He’d have Snivelwurst with him and that would slow him down, but they must be fairly close by now. However, he might not come directly up to his study; he’d want to eat first and get warm.

I reached the top floor, the narrow little landing with the lancet window where I’d first heard the horrible plan, and paused. What next? Into the study. I shut the door quickly behind me and looked around with great curiosity, for I’d never been inside it before.

It was a large room that took up the whole of that floor of the tower apart from the landing. In one corner there was a set of wooden steps that led to a trapdoor in the ceiling—obviously the way to the roof. Three of the walls were covered with bookshelves, rank upon rank of dusty leather tomes. In the center of the room there was a desk, littered with papers, and against one wall there was a great oak chest.

A sudden draft swirled around me, and I looked up at the diamond-paned window. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to pull the curtains across, I thought. Then I sat in his chair and leaned back. It was a deep, comfortable one, with velvet cushions and wide arms; and I thought, how pleasant to be wealthy, with comfortable chairs and leisure to sit down in them. I began to daydream. And before I knew what was happening, I’d fallen asleep.