“There’s no room service to be had here,” I said sternly. “And you’re expected to clean up your own mess. There are no servants among the Droods, or at least, not as such. We’re all encouraged from an early age to look after ourselves . . . Builds character and self-reliance.”

“How very worthy,” said Molly. “Let it be clearly understood between us that I do not do worthy. Was this really the best room you could have chosen, out of all those available?”

“I chose this room because it used to be my parents’,” I said. “Back when I was a child. I can just about remember visiting them here . . . It’s hard to be sure. Memories from that age are never reliable. My mother and father weren’t often here, you see. As field agents they lived outside the Hall.”

“And you weren’t allowed to live with them?” said Molly, sitting up and propping her back against the wooden headboard.

“No. All Drood children are raised here, in the dormitories. So they can be properly trained and indoctrinated. Loyalty is to the family, not our parents.”

“Harry wasn’t raised here,” Molly said thoughtfully.

“No. Which gives you some idea of how much the Matriarch disapproved of Uncle James marrying without permission, to an unsuitable woman. Anyone else would have been declared rogue.”

“I like the furnishings and fittings,” said Molly, tactfully changing the subject. “Everything in here’s an antique, but in splendid condition. Hey, if there aren’t any servants here, who polishes all the wood and brass?”

“We take turns, when we’re young,” I said. “Character building, remember? I hated it. I can still remember my hands going numb from the cold as I cleaned the outside windows in the depths of winter, because the water in the bucket always went cold before you were finished. And don’t even get me started about trying to scrub brass with Duraglit when your fingers have all gone numb . . . Bugger character building. All it taught me was never to own anything made of brass, and be sure to tip my window cleaners very generously.”

“Feel free to vent, Eddie,” said Molly. “Don’t hold anything back.”

“At least I talk about my past,” I said pointedly.

“Oh look,” said Molly. “I’m changing the subject again. I like the television. That is one seriously big fuckoff widescreen television. And five speakers, for surround sound . . . Cool.”

“Only the best for the family,” I said. “But I wouldn’t have thought you watched much television, in the woods.”

“I’m a witch, not a barbarian. I like the cooking shows . . . Love Masterchef. I suppose you watch the sci-fi channels?”

“No,” I said. “I like to leave my work behind when I relax. I prefer the comedy channels.”

Molly hugged her knees to her chest and looked at me thoughtfully.

“What are we doing here, Eddie? Why are we hiding out in your room?”