Candles set in black iron holders on the walls flickered as they passed. The movement sent strange shadows dancing up to the ceiling. It was very quiet for a boarding house. There was no sound of conversation, not even any sound of the servants going about their duties. ‘Are there other guests?’ he asked. Mrs Galy appeared not to hear him. She stopped in front of a high wooden desk at the foot of the stairs. Freddie could smell the beeswax polish. The wood gleamed in the light from an oil lamp that sat on the counter top. She took a large, brass key from the row of hooks on the wall. ‘This way,’ she said. Freddie followed her up the tiled staircase to a room on the second floor. Mrs Galy turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door and stood back for Freddie to walk in first. He glanced around. It was plain, but pleasant and clean. Two tall windows, floor to ceiling, filled one side of the room. An old-fashioned bed with a brass bedstead stood against the left-hand wall. Beside it was a wooden bedside table.
