Reaching the door, she tapped lightly on it and waited for a response. Nothing but silence greeted her, and after waiting for several anxious seconds, she curled her fingers and rapped loudly on the door.

“Yes, yes! What is it?”

The voice from the other side of the door sounded grumpy and harsh. A voice Pansy didn’t like at all. “It’s the maid, sir,” she called out. “I brought up your dinner tray for you like you asked.”

A couple of grunts answered her, then the sound of the key turning in the lock. The door opened an inch or two and a bony hand appeared. “Give it to me.”

“I can’t get it through that space without spilling everything, sir.”

“Oh, very well.” The door opened slightly wider. “Bring it in and put it on the bed.”

Gritting her teeth, Pansy lifted her knee and nudged the door open. Inside the room a small oil lamp, turned down low, flickered on the bedside table. The stocky figure of Mr. Mortimer stood with his back to her by the window, staring out, though he couldn’t possibly see anything since it was pitch dark outside.

Pansy glanced at the back of his head, then let out a small sigh as she placed the tray carefully in the middle of the bed. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Encouraged by the small gesture of appreciation, Pansy went on brightly, “Mrs. Chubb said to ask if you would like a cup of tea brought up later. I’ll be happy to bring it up for-”

“No tea! I want nothing else.”

Startled by the gruff tone again, Pansy backed away to the door. “Very well, sir. I’ll be back to pick up the tray, then-”

“I’ll put it outside when I’m finished. Now please, just go away and leave me alone.”

Pansy was only too happy to oblige. She slipped outside and closed the door a little firmly to show her displeasure, then marched back down the stairs full of righteous indignation. How dare he talk to me that way! Still steaming, she charged across the lobby and ran full tilt into Gertie coming the other way.