Michael
James and I exchange baffled looks. Richard hovers, indecisive for the first time since I have seen him. He takes a step or two towards the rear of the hall, then stops and turns, and turns again.
“Richard...." begins James....
“Oh, f**k it!" says Richard. “I saw you two at the club. You're about to get your own back. Come on."
Mystified, we follow him to a door towards the back of the house. As he opens it, a chill musty smell billows up....
A cellar?
..... and the laughter becomes louder....
We descend a set of stone steps into a long basement corridor, stone built and vaulted. Doors lead off from either side, the scents of boiler rooms and laundries as we pass. At the end of the hall, a door is slightly ajar, light casting out, drawing a long finger across the stone-flagg
