In my haste to the door, I clumsily hit a book that fell open with a loud thud. It showed illustrations mostly, interspersed with writings such as: ‘How to make a dead man’s eye move again’.
I couldn’t stand this one more second. Again, the only solution was running away as fast as possible.
I hurried back to an asleep Sepani and woke him up with the subtlety of a hurricane: I was out of my mind with panic. Realising how serious the situation must be, he soon prepared his bundle and was ready to go.
In order to leave the house we had to pass through the kitchen; there, following the clues, he too deduced the old woman’s crimes. In fact, although he couldn’t read the book, he could still perfectly interpret the drawings – as well as the moving eye.
We took an apparently endless staircas
