She was wondering who had the keys when she spotted a small window that was partly open. If she stood on one of the empty kegs she might be able to climb into the building. It was a risky thing to do, but she was driven by necessity. Her feelings of apprehension were replaced by the desire to investigate further, even though she remembered the ghostly tales about the old inn that had circulated in the village. However, it was broad daylight and she doubted if any of the ghouls or ghosts would bother her today. She hitched up her skirts and raised herself up on a keg, balancing with difficulty as she opened the window wide enough for her to climb through.

It was dark inside the building and she dropped onto the floor in what appeared to be a small storeroom. Cobwebs brushed her face and a huge spider landed on her arm. She shook it off, stifling a cry of alarm, and let herself out into a narrow passageway where she came to a halt. She stood very still, hardly daring to breathe as she listened for any sound that might indicate another presence.

‘Is anyone there?’ she asked anxiously, but the only answer was an echo of her own voice.

Emboldened, she began to explore the ground floor. The main taproom was still furnished with tables and chairs, and a multitude of spiders, cockroaches and probably a few rats, although the rodent population kept well out of sight. Cautiously, she opened the shutters and allowed the sunlight to filter through the salt-encrusted windowpanes. She had expected complete devastation, but oddly enough the taproom and its furniture seemed intact, although filthy, and the hearth by the inglenook was covered in cinders and ash. The shelves behind the bar were empty and if any bottles or glasses had been left behind, these must have been looted years ago. The same was true in the snug bar and in the kitchen. All the cupboards were empty and although she did not venture down to the cellar, she was quite certain that there would be nothing of value down there.

A private parlour at the rear of the pub had been stripped of its furniture, and there were oblong patches on the walls where pictures must have once adorned the room. The flagstone floor was muddied and bare of rugs, and the whole ground floor smelled of damp, must and the stench of cockroaches and rat droppings. She needed to take a look at the upstairs room, but her nerve began to fail her now that she was in the sombre shell of the building. She plucked up the courage to make her way to the first floor, and her heart was pounding when she reached the top of the stairs. She took a deep breath: she had come this far and she was determined to see the investigation through.

There were six bedrooms, all empty except for iron bedsteads minus their mattresses. A narrow flight of stairs led to three small attic rooms, which were filled with the rubbish that the last tenant had left behind, and that had been unwanted by looters. Judy closed the door on the higgledy-piggledy mess, but by the time she reached the ground floor she had made up her mind as to what her next move would be. She secured the window in the storeroom and a search of the drawers in the kitchen produced a bunch of rusty keys, one of which opened the back door. To her delight another key unlocked the front door. It was obvious that the persons who broke into the building were not domesticated, or they would have thought to search more thoroughly for the keys that would give them freedom to return as often as they pleased.