Owing to the time of day, that wasn’t a surprise. I raced to the east wing. The red stairwell was the far one at the end of the hall, on the right. When the house was designed and servants lived here, high up in the tiny, spartan rooms that lined this end of the mansion’s top floors, a very wise, very efficient decision was made to paint each of the four stairway walls a different color, making for quick and easy identification in this end of the home. I was still at least a hundred feet away from the turnoff to the red stairwell when groups of people came around the corner, heading the opposite direction guided by security guards. Chattering, exclaiming, and throwing glances over their shoulders, they allowed themselves to be shepherded toward the wide, central staircase. Several of the guards shot me questioning looks as I rushed past. I shrugged a reply, just as I heard Niles ask a family to please step downstairs and await further instructions.
