Something crinkled under his foot. Kolkamitza respectfully picked up the plastic bag that held Rheims and set it down on the arm of the musty sofa before crossing the room. He gave the cunning mirror an admiring once-over and noted more bric-a-brac, much of which was rather expensive-looking: silver candlesticks, a roll-top desk, a grandfather clock. Perhaps his landlord was an eccentric hoarder who had created this storage unit to conceal his compulsion.

Contented that any further investigation into this matter could be done on higher ground, Kolkamitza prepared to depart.

That’s when Fate dangled another temptation before him; this one in the form of a pull-down staircase. The steps were collapsed in on one another like a nested serpent waiting to uncoil. Beneath the stairs was yet another door.

Kolkamitza wedged his wrist between the folded steps and rapped three times upon the rectangular door, which dutifully opened. The wooden stairs fell noisily into form. The obscene clattering sent Kolkamitza cowering behind the grandfather clock for fear of discovery. But discovery by what?

For a tense eternity, the room remained still. Its only soundtrack was Kolkamitza’s frantic heartbeat. The storage room was now illuminated by a new light source, one that emanated from the opened hatch in the floor. It lured Kolkamitza as though he were a moth.

What stretched beneath this crude room of wood beams and clutter was not some grubby sub-basement, but a grand corridor whose floor was lavished with high-pile carpet and whose walls were panelled in walnut. The light, Kolkamitza now plainly saw, was radiating from a chandelier. Two or three landscape paintings brightened the dark wooden walls and there was an alabaster column standing directly across from the pull-down staircase. Upon it rested a vase of fresh chrysanthemums. Kolkamitza could smell their perfume.

How far down could this place go? How far indeed, for the room in which he stood was no mere storage bunker, it was an attic. And he had just discovered an access to the main house.

He carefully lowered a foot onto the uppermost step. He tried to make his descent silent, but even the slightest pressure caused the wooden stairs to creak or pop.

Now in the great hallway and ravenous for validation of what he was seeing, Kolkamitza pressed his palm to the wall. It was firm and cool. His perspiration formed a perfect handprint on the walnut panel. He watched it dissolve.

A few paces ahead, a landing was visible, along with the pillars that flanked a great staircase. The only thing that diverted his attention from this majestic sight was the presence of a half-open door at the end of the hall.