Laura and Stewart nodded.

“Diesel, you stay here with Miss Dickce.” He meowed as if he understood, and Miss Dickce stroked his back. I took a deep breath before I opened the door and stepped into the stairwell.

The door shut behind me, and I peered down through the murky light to the bottom of the stairs. The light on the wall beside me did little to illuminate any farther than about a third of the way down, from what I could see. The musty odor made my nose twitch, and I hoped my sinuses wouldn’t pay me back later for this.

I started cautiously down the stairs, mindful of what I knew about the state of the wood beneath my feet. I reached out to grasp the handrail but then realized there wasn’t one. I had maybe two inches’ clearance on each side of me, and, as I discovered, not even that much space over my head. Claustrophobia began to kick in, worsening as I went further down, counting each step.

At number twenty-six I reached the bottom. These antebellum homes had higher ceilings than most houses did these days, and that accounted for the longer-than-usual staircase. I felt for the knob and grasped it. By now my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and I discovered that it was pretty dark at the bottom.

I turned to look up. Deep shadows covered the lower two-thirds of the run of stairs, and the light appeared even weaker than before from this vantage point. I turned and faced the door again, because I remembered Azalea’s telling me she was in that position when she heard someone enter at the head of the stairs.

The seconds stretched out, and I breathed in the damp air. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I sympathized with Azalea.

Finally I heard movement above me, and the floor creaked as Laura and Stewart entered the stairwell. I counted to five before I turned and looked up.

Laura was only a silhouette, and I couldn’t see Stewart at all. They were approximately the same height, so that wasn’t surprising. Laura started down the steps, and then I could see the edge of Stewart’s silhouette behind her, outlined by a faint nimbus of light. As I watched, I saw the silhouette behind Laura change shape slightly.

“I’m pretending to shove her down now,” Stewart said, and I could just see the movement of his arms behind Laura. They were dark projections of his body. Then I focused on Laura as she pretended to pitch forward, and without thinking I started up the stairs toward her to break her fall.

She called out to me. “I’m okay, Dad. I’m not really falling.”

I stopped where I was, and as I did I realized I could no longer see anyone behind her on the stairs. Evidently Stewart had slipped back up the stairs and out the door while my attention was focused on Laura.

“Jeez, it’s dark in here,” Laura said. “That lightbulb must be an antique itself. Did they ever make ten-watt bulbs?”