I rose early with one thought in mind. I had to find Belinda and somewhere else to stay.

I dressed and went down to breakfast. Queenie appeared from the kitchen, brushing crumbs from her front. “I was going to bring you tea, miss, but they didn’t have no tea, only coffee, and besides, your door was locked.”

“It’s all right. I’m up now and I don’t think I’d have dared to eat or drink anything in that library,” I said.

The gargoyle appeared, hands on hips. “Breakfast? They do not want breakfast until nine. They are very late risers.”

“How about some coffee and croissants now, to keep me going?” I asked.

“Maybe possible.” She shrugged and sniffed, went away and came back with a cup of strong black coffee and some of the previous day’s stale bread, sliced with a small dish of apricot jam.

I ate a couple of mouthfuls and had a swig of coffee, which was disgusting and tasted like liquid tar, then I left a note saying that I had gone out for a walk. A long walk preferably.

I stepped outside to a delightful day. The sun was shining. The sky was blue and the air was perfumed, just as I had imagined it when I stood in Victoria Station. All things considered it was better being here than serving soup. I followed the lane down into town and eventually came to the seafront, where I stood leaning against the railing, watching early risers take their morning constitutional. The sea sparkled in the morning sunshine. Farther down the Promenade there was an impressive-looking pier and behind the town green hills rose, dotted with villas—like the one in which I had expected to stay, no doubt.

I stood for a while, just drinking in the scene, breathing the fresh salty air. It would be no good looking for Belinda too early. She rarely rose before ten—and she probably wouldn’t be in her own bed anyway. But at least if she was staying at the Hotel Negresco, as she had mentioned, I could leave a note for her and meet her later.