‘You sit there… I’ll not be long.’ The man gestured towards a sprawling black horse-hair chair beside the fireplace. ‘The cash-box is kept upstairs. I’ll fetch it.’

Shivering from the damp atmosphere, Molly made no move to do as he bid. ‘I’ll wait here,’ she said.

His eyes raked her face, then, shrugging his shoulders, he muttered, ‘Suit yourself.’ Afterwards, he turned away and hurried from the room, leaving Molly with a bad feeling. She was tempted to run from the house before he returned, but the thought of heading for the open road without her wages kept her there. ‘They’re my wages,’ she whispered into the room, as though justifying her intrusion. ‘I worked myself ragged for them… and I’m not leaving here without ’em, no sir!’

As good as his word, Bill Craig was back downstairs within a very short time, the cash-box tucked under his arm. ‘Can’t find the key,’ he told Molly. ‘Like I said, the wife’s a canny bugger… keeps it on her person, she does.’ He put the cash-box on the table and opened the cutlery drawer beneath. When he had drawn out a small, bone-handled knife, he smiled at Molly, telling her, ‘You’ll have to grip the box tight, while I prise the lock open.’ He clasped his long fingers around the box, pinning it to the table. ‘Like this,’ he said, ‘you keep it still, mind. I don’t relish the idea of slicing a finger off!’

Against her better instincts, Molly felt compelled to do as he said. After all, it was true that he could not hold the box and lever the lock open at the same time because the box was secured by a large, free-hanging padlock. He would therefore need one hand to hold the padlock, and the other to prise it apart. All the same, when she came to his side and took hold of the box between her hands, it was with growing trepidation.

‘That’s right, girlie. You just keep it from dancing about, while I get to grips with this bloody lock.’ He chuckled, and to Molly – who was decidedly nervous at being in such close proximity to him – it was a disturbing sound.

As he worked on the lock, grunting and quietly swearing, Molly could feel the warm stench of his breath on her face. Disgusted, she turned her head to one side, all the while telling herself that at no time in all the weeks she had worked for him had Mr Craig made any unseemly suggestions, or been anything other than polite and impersonal. Somehow, she was reassured.

In a moment, though, the reassurance was shattered when Molly inadvertently glanced into the mirror which hung on the wall opposite. What she saw there made her tremble! It was his face. A face filled with longing, a face supposedly bent to its task, but instead gazing at Molly, the narrowed eyes intent on her hair, then lowered to her breast where they lingered a while. In that split second when Molly saw the terrible danger, there came a sharp click, and the lid of the cash-box sprang open. Instinctively, Molly pulled away, already backing towards the door, her dark eyes accusing and bright with fury. When he came forward, smiling down at her, his two arms outstretched and a certain look in his eye, her one thought was to get out of there, get away from him! Turning, she made a run for the door.