It's a miserable grey excuse for illumination, spilling through a barred slot of a window. Not dawn. Just the paling of the sky as the moon rises. Still, it's an improvement.
The first landing comes out, more or less as I expected, onto the first storey of the house, at the far end of the corridor I first saw. Strictly a servants' entrance, the door is set into the wall, disguised as panelling, so the Great And The Good didn't have to acknowledge the little invisibles who served them. As I press it open, laminate breaks away from the plaster backing, dropping as dust and splinters to the floor.
I've seen what I need to. I pull the door back again, leaving it only partly closed to give me a little more light.
The next two floors are much the same. I'm not interested. Gun at the ready, I
