Holme Again

4

The bathroom was small and neat. It had a round stained glass window above the sink, and a claw-footed ceramic bath.

Once I had finished cleaning myself of the train joirney, I tried myself with the towel which had, indeed, been left in the towel rail. I then ventured back into the bedroom, where, somehow, in seven minutes, the butler (who even had a butler any moremore?) had cleaned my suitcase of mud and placed it beside the bed. I dressed and replaced the towel in its rail, then crept out into the corridor. I crept because it felt wrong, treating this house as a house. It felt as though I had broken into a National Trust house and then just started living in it.

I didn't know which way to go, but I could recall the basic feeling of movement of the journey up to the room. In ten minutes, after having twice gone the wrong way, I found the stairs.

At the bottow, waiting, was a man dressed as a butler. Naturally, I made the deduction that this was the butler. How clever.

"If you'll follow me sir."

I allowed myself to be led through several passages to a room with a crackling fire, and my uncle stood in front, facing the flames. Once I had entered, the butler closed the door silently behind me.

"Take a seat, Magnus."

I took a quick glance around the room, then settled for an armchair near the fire, to the left of my uncle. It was squishy and comfortable, and what with the fire crackling merrily, I felt warm and sleepy and safe.

Briefly, I saw my uncle take the armchair opposite me, before my eyelids drooped and the room was replaced with darkness.