Kate glanced over her shoulder at what must once have been a lawn, but was now more like a wildflower meadow. ‘It certainly needs a little love and attention, but it’s off the beaten track and I can see why it could prove to be a good hideaway for Lady Lyndon and Annie.’ She rapped on the door knocker several times and there was no answer.

‘No one’s at home,’ Jenny said with a sigh of what sounded like relief.

‘Perhaps the caretaker lives at the back of the house. Come along, Jenny. I doubt if any monsters or ghouls abide in Walthamstow.’

Laughing, Kate strolled off along the pathway that led around the house, skirting a shrubbery. The house was considerably larger than she had at first thought, and what might once have been a beautifully kept rose garden stretched out towards a stand of trees and another overgrown grassy area. Rose petals had been scattered by the wind like confetti and their rich scent filled the air, mingling with the brackish odour from the marshes. Kate, however, was not here to enjoy the beauty of nature. She headed for the stable yard at the far side of the house, which had obviously been unused for some time. Moss covered the cobblestones and a stable door hung off rusted hinges, groaning as if in pain.

Kate knocked on the back door and when no one answered she tried the handle. To her surprise the door opened and she stepped into a narrow passageway with a flagstone floor.

‘Is anyone about?’ she called loudly.

‘I say we leave now,’ Jenny muttered.

‘Ho, there! Is anyone at home?’ Kate opened a door, which turned out to be a boot cupboard, although there was only one pair of muddy pattens on the rack. The next door was a preparation room of some sort, again seemingly unused but spotlessly clean, and at the end of the passage she walked through a scullery into a large kitchen.

Seated facing each other on either side of the range, an elderly man and woman were sound asleep and the man was snoring.

Kate cleared her throat. ‘Ahem. Good afternoon.’

The woman woke up with a start and she kicked the man, who staggered to his feet, still half asleep.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you,’ Kate said hastily. ‘I’ve come here on Mr Trader’s behalf.’

‘Who?’ The woman stared at her suspiciously. ‘Don’t know anyone of that name.’

Kate realised her mistake. ‘I mean Sir Harry Lyndon sent me.’

‘Why didn’t you say so in the first place?’ The old man brushed a stray lock of thinning grey hair off his forehead. ‘Martha, put the kettle on. We’ve got visitors.’

‘You do it, Arthur. You’re the nearest.’ Martha stared suspiciously at Kate. ‘Where is Sir Harry? Why has he sent you here today?’