Hester took the papers from Squeaky’s reluctant fingers and walked straight over to the doorway, expecting any moment to hear Squeaky’s footsteps behind her. She reached the door with relief and opened it, then closed it again behind her. Margaret looked up at her, her face pale and tight with tension. She gulped when she saw the papers in Hester’s hand, and relaxed a fraction.

Hester looked at them just long enough to be certain that they were the original signed IOUs, not copies of anything in Squeaky’s own hand. When she was satisfied that they were, she looked up and nodded to Margaret.

Margaret took them and went to the fireplace. She put a taper to the gas flame in the light, caught fire to it, then, sheltering it with her hand, bent down and set it to the papers, all in absolute silence.

Hester stood with her back against the door, her heart pounding.

The flames caught and flared up. Margaret watched until there was nothing left, then took the tongs and crushed the blackened pieces. She turned around to Hester, a smile of triumph on her face.

Hester picked up the ledger. “Do you want to?” she invited her.

Margaret shook her head. “It’s yours,” she replied. “But I want to watch.”

Hester made a little beckoning gesture, then opened the door with her free hand and went back into the room with Squeaky and Rathbone.

Squeaky looked up. “Well?” he demanded. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“You did,” Hester agreed, putting the ledger down on the desk in front of him. “There was a lot of money owed. But since I have just burned the IOUs, you will not be able to collect it.”

Squeaky stared at her in incomprehension. It was too terrible for him to grasp.

Even Rathbone seemed startled. He had expected her to leave Squeaky to find that out for himself when they were well outside the place. He looked a trifle taken aback.

“You . . . you fool!” Squeaky screeched as the truth of it dawned on him. “You . . . you . . .”

“Not a fool, Mr. Robinson,” Hester said calmly, although her hands were sweating and she knew she was trembling. “It was precisely what I intended to do.”

“I’m ruined!” Squeaky’s face was red, his eyes bulging. He held out his hands as if he were thinking of actually grasping hold of her and strangling her.

She took a step backward just as Rathbone stood up. “No you won’t,” she said chokingly. “I have an idea how you could use this place . . . really quite well.”

“You what?” Squeaky said with total disbelief. She was monstrous! Beyond credibility.

“I . . . I have an idea,” Hester repeated. “We need new premises, better than we have now, and cheaper . . .”

“Cheaper?” Squeaky yelled. “You should pay me compensation! That’s what you should do . . . you . . . you lunatic!”