Liam pulls out the torch and lights the way on the now familiar route through the cellar. Once in the downstairs servants’ area we both turn our heads to stare into the room where the meat was hanging the other day, only to see that even more strips have joined the others and blood has pooled and congealed on the stone floor. I can see now, with the luxury of slightly less panic, that the meat is rabbit. There are several skins stretched taut on the table. He must be catching them with traps and skinning them, maybe eating them too.

For the first time, I also notice the rusting hunting equipment hanging on the wall. Before I only noted the savage-looking hooks and the strips of bloody flesh, but now I spot the rusting jaws of an ancient-looking gin trap, the kind of thing that looks like it could catch a buffalo, it’s so big. What on earth was that used for? Maybe once upon a time there were wild boar on the island. There are also smaller wire snares and a range of contraptions with serrated teeth, probably used to catch foxes or ferrets. Blood roars in my ears. What are we doing here?

We keep going, and I’m sickeningly aware that at any moment our pursuer could return to the castle. He might only be minutes behind us. There’s no time to dawdle. We make our way up the servants’ staircase and along the hallway towards the bedroom where he’s set up his campsite. Liam is panting hard and sweating by the time we reach it, and he has to lean on me.

The room looks much the same as before, except all his belongings have been repacked into his bag and the pile of trash in the corner of the room has grown. Immediately my gaze lands on the stash of pot noodles and the little camping stove. Liam’s does too. ‘See if there’s any food we can take,’ he tells me.

I rush over and start rummaging through the supplies. There’s a box of granola bars and a few packets of instant noodles, but we’d need the stove to cook the noodles and I’m not sure we should take it. I’m not sure we should take anything, but I shove the breakfast bars into my pocket, half of me wishing I could open one and stuff it in my mouth but knowing there’s no time even for that.

Liam is frantically hunting through the man’s things. ‘Where’s the gun?’ he mutters angrily.

I glance around and spot it on the other side of the room, sitting on the broken mantelpiece. ‘There,’ I say, pointing. I can’t quite believe the man has left the gun here unmanned. I suppose it’s confirmation that he thinks we’ve left the island.