When a second set of raps rings through the house, Renfrew rises, straightens his jacket, then turns back before he has reached the door. In the dark Charlie cannot see what he is doing until he feels the smooth circle of the tubing force itself back into his mouth. He is too exhausted to struggle.

“It is better,” Renfrew says quietly, “if your presence here remains a secret until we have finished our conversation. I will see who it is.”

A third set of raps hurries him out. The staircase groans under his quick step. A moment later he can be heard opening the door. The floor is so little insulated, each sound carries up with total clarity. It is as though Renfrew and his guest were standing in the darkness, at the far end of the room.

“Mr. Spencer! This is a surprise. What brings you here, my boy?”

If Renfrew’s voice is polite though strained, the voice that answers is rich with the practised insolence of master talking to servant. Even behind his gag, salt burning in every cranny of his gums, Charlie flinches at the tone.

“Master Renfrew! What a perfectly charming cottage this is. Cozy. But won’t you ask me in?”

“If you wish.”

“Oh, I do!”

Two sets of steps, and a dog’s hard-clawed paws: they pass under Charlie’s bed and walk on to the living room, on the other side of the house. From there the voices carry more dully. It’s Julius who does most of the talking.

“Ah, that’s better. Build up the fire, won’t you, Master Renfrew? The roads have been filthy today, and I am soaked to the bone. And help me out of these boots, if you will.” A moment later he adds: “Tell me, master, is there anybody else in the house? A visitor perhaps?”

Renfrew does something unprecedented then.

He lies.

“No. I am by myself. What brings you here, Mr. Spencer? I must confess it is not the most convenient of times.”

Julius sees fit to ignore the question.

“I heard you were living with your niece.”

“Yes. She is spending the holidays with her grandparents, in Herefordshire. I assure you we have the cottage to ourselves.”

“No servants, eh? Not even a valet. How awfully squalid. But never mind, it suits us, doesn’t it, this tête-à-tête? Here is the thing, Master Renfrew. I want to talk about Charlie Cooper. He came to you last night. A groundsman saw a ‘beggar’ walk up to your door. I happen to know that beggar was no such thing. Did he rush off right away or did he spend the night?”

“He left at dawn.”

The voice is confident, unhesitating, impossible to doubt. At the same time Renfrew is speaking loudly, making sure his voice will carry through the floorboards. Charlie wonders what it is about Julius’s appearance that has made such a liar out of the schoolmaster.