18
A click sounded in the darkness.
Then the faint protest of a hinge as the heavy wooden front door was swung inward. A pause as the intruder waited, checking for any disturbance, then quiet, almost silent, footsteps slipped along the edge of the wooden floor of the hallway, avoiding the possibility of creaking floorboards.
They passed the corridor on the left, which led to the kitchen. The stairs were in sight now, even in the darkness of the hallway.
BANGGG!
Hannah, the household’s head cook, stood over a crumpled figure, a huge cast iron frypan held in her two hands. From further up the corridor, a light appeared held by Rose, the maid.
Rose hurried down to join the cook in looking down at the black clad intruder. She gave a little grunt of satisfaction. “Well done, Hannah. How a
