"Think we should answer?" I asked Harkat.

"Yes," he said. "He doesn't look like the sort who'll… go away if we ignore him."

"Who do you think he is?"

"I'm not sure, but there's something… officious about him. He might be a police officer or in… the army."

"You don't think they know about…?" I nodded at the sleeping vampire.

"They'd send more than one man… if they did," Harkat replied.

I thought about it for a moment, then made up my mind. "I'll go see what he wants. But I won't let him in unless I have to — I don't want people snooping around in here while Mr. Crepsley's resting."

"Shall I stay here?" Harkat asked.

"Yes, but keep close to the door and don't lock it — I'll call if I run into trouble."

Leaving Harkat to fetch his axe, I quickly pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt and went to see what the man in the corridor wanted. Pausing by the door, not opening it, I cleared my throat and called out innocently, "Who is it?"

In immediate response, in a voice like a small dog's bark, the man with the briefcase said, "Mr. Horston?"

"No," I replied, breathing a small sigh of relief. "You have the wrong room."

"Oh?" The man in the corridor sounded surprised. "This isn't Mr. Vur Horston's room?"

"No, it's—" I winced. I'd forgotten the false names we'd given when registering! Mr. Crepsley had signed in as Vur Horston and I'd said I was his son. (Harkat had crept in when no one was watching.) "I mean," I began again, "this is my room, not my dad's. I'm Darren Horston, his son."