I stayed in the bathroom for nearly two hours, sitting on the chilly linoleum in the dark, rubbing my feet with a towel and crying as quietly as I could. The bathroom was safe; no one would come in during the night. The hot water was off till seven a.m., and the loo was in its own closet next door. If I made no noise, no one would notice me.

I kept an ear out for Jane in case she got up, but by four o’clock in the morning I was so tired I thought I might be able to go to bed and sleep off the rest of the pain. I dragged myself out of the bathroom and started down the passage to Room Number Five.

As I crossed the landing at the top of the stairwell, I heard a noise in the hall below me like a trapdoor closing.

I panicked.

How had that woman got herself downstairs without me noticing? Not again!

The rest of the house was silent and dark. I knew for a fact Nancy Campbell finished counting in the landing Blenheims over three hours ago.

I put one burning foot down on the top step, then hesitated as I realized what the sound downstairs had been. There was a big medieval wooden bench in the hall with storage under the seat. The sound I’d heard was the lid closing. I didn’t think Jane could stand and lift that lid herself.

Then I heard the door of the telephone cupboard open, and I could tell that someone was sweeping the beam of an electric torch about inside it. I waited, listening. The torch went dark; I couldn’t hear footsteps, but a minute later the door of Mrs. Campbell’s office snicked open.

Whoever was down there was moving so furtively that I wondered if we were being burgled.

But the creeper seemed too familiar with the place to be a sneak thief—perhaps it was Nan checking windows after the blackout violation. The office door closed again. There wasn’t any more light. The person was being very cautious.

Footsteps came treading deliberately up the staircase.

I took another step down and grabbed the rail, gasping with the shock of the sudden weight on my feet.

Whoever it was must have known now that I was there. If I tried to run back to the bathroom or my room, it would just look suspicious. Even ridiculous. So I sat down at the top of the stairs and waited.

Three-quarters of the way up, the stalker stopped and lit a match.

“Oh,” said Miss Lind when she saw me.

For a moment our eyes were level.

Hers were clear amber, like dark honey, in the matchlight. She shook the match to put it out before it burned her fingers.

“Hello,” Miss Lind said softly.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“What are you doing up?” she fired back.