“There must be another way out,” Violet whispers, and she pushes open the nearest door. It creaks loudly, and we freeze where we stand. But no angry voice shouts up at us, and the two men remain in the study below, engrossed in their talk of night-time plans and harpoon guns.

We enter what looks like a box room, filled with old furniture and crates. There’s a small sink in the corner with a dripping tap. Outside the single dormer window, I see the snow-laden tiles of the roof.

“Are you good with heights?” Violet asks.

“Of course,” I squeak. “If they’re good with me.”

Violet heads to the window.

“Wait,” I say. “I need to know something first.”

“Herbie, what is wrong with you?”

“I… I just need to know that you aren’t keeping anything from me.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” I tug at my cap. “Like who those people are who visited Eels just now. The man and the woman.”

“How would I know that?” Violet almost forgets to whisper.

Then she stares at me. “You don’t think—?”

“I don’t know what to think any more,” I say with a shrug. “But I only have your word for it that you are looking for your parents. It seems to me that it’s going to be impossible to find them, and yet here you are anyway, poking about in Eels’ study and getting involved in our local legends.”

Violet’s expression is cold and incredulous. For a moment, the only sound is the dripping of the tap.

“Poking about?” Violet says at last. She’s squared up to me now, and balled her fists. “It’s your stupid legends that got involved with me!”

I know I’m being unreasonable. But something still doesn’t add up. Just then the dripping tap starts to rattle, water sputtering from the spout.

We both turn to it. As we watch, vapour begins to pour out of the tap, billowing into a cloud of mist. But it doesn’t move like an ordinary cloud. It gathers instead into a shape – a great, looming shape.

The shape of a man.

“Boathook Man!” Vi and I both cry out.

And it’s true, no matter how unbelievable it sounds. The mist is rapidly solidifying into the old captain – his vacant eyes, his dripping beard – and the part that is most solid of all is his vicious hook.

“The window!” Vi yells, and she twists the catch, flinging it open.

Boathook Man lifts his hook hand high and sweeps it towards me. I drop to the floorboards, and his arm slices through the air where I was just standing, showering me with water.

“You cannot stop us!” he roars like a gathering storm. “I will be free!”

By now, Vi is out of the window and clinging to the snowy frame. “Quick, Herbie!”