When Estelle turned to close the window behind them, he bent quickly and gathered up two pieces of screwed-up paper and slipped them into his pocket. Unwanted love-notes? He didn’t think so. He managed in his torchlight to catch a glimpse of the name Houbigant printed on one of the flimsy pink sheets. Face powder papers? Discarded out here amongst the cigarette ends? An outlandish and unwelcome thought delayed for a moment his automatic offer of help with the window.

‘Sometimes, when I’ve drunk too much or if Cecily’s snoring, I can’t sleep. Especially these hot nights. So I come out here, sit on the window sill and smoke. The others can’t stand the smell of tobacco and I’m banned from doing it in the dorm. It’s rather like being back at school! I was out here the night of the full moon. It was quite magical. The moon was over there.’ She pointed behind her. ‘A huge harvest moon shining down on the courtyard. It was almost as bright as day but of course the shadows were deeper. But then it all got a bit strange. I heard some dull thuds coming from the chapel and I stood up to have a look. There were no lights on so I sat down again. I thought it must be rocks settling, woodwork contracting after the day’s heat … you know what old buildings are like. I’ve lived in some pretty decrepit places and nothing surprises me! About half an hour later I saw him.’

‘Him?’

Estelle began to tremble and instinctively Joe threw a comforting arm around her shoulders and tucked her shawl more closely about her. The girl felt small-boned and about as substantial as gossamer in his arms but her voice when she replied was throaty and determinedly bold.

‘Him? It? A ghost. At least that’s what I thought I saw. Yes, really! That was my first thought.’

‘Can you describe it?’

‘Dark grey. Solid shape. It could have been male or female. I saw it very clearly. It was wearing a long hooded robe, just as you might expect, and moving along soundlessly. Coming from the chapel towards me. Like this … Head down, hands together in front …’ She demonstrated. ‘Not skulking or trying to hide. Floating along as though it did this every night. Perhaps it does …’

‘Were you able to make out a face?’

Again Estelle quivered. ‘It was hidden by the hood as it came towards me but, without breaking stride, it suddenly looked up in my direction. This is the sickening bit, Joe. It had no face. Where you’d expect to see features there was nothing but a white space. It was a faceless monk.’

‘It looked up at you? Are you quite certain about that?’

‘Yes. Almost as though I’d called out to him. I hadn’t. I made no noise at all. I didn’t move and he couldn’t have seen me in the shadows. He had no eyes, in any case.’

‘Listen, Estelle. I have to ask—could this … um … sighting have been a nightmare? Or a hallucination with a physical cause? Alcohol? Other stimulating and vision-inducing substances?’

He could hardly speak more plainly.

She answered in kind. ‘Ah. Yes. Know what you mean! Was I squiffy? Sensible question and I’ll tell you straight up—no! I couldn’t have been more clear-headed,’ she finished convincingly and then ruined her impression of unquestionable sobriety by adding: ‘On that occasion.’

‘And, having had time to mull it over, are you still thinking it was a ghost you saw?’

‘Lord, no! I’m thinking it was something much more sinister. Something human was coming back indoors. He was one of us. And he felt it necessary to hide his identity. Has he put the cloak away in his wardrobe to use again later? Was he sitting there at the lunch table listening to Padraic’s account of his exploits?’

‘I’m wondering why you didn’t speak publicly of this earlier?’ Joe asked quietly, sure that he knew the answer.

‘And be labelled some sort of crackpot? Spread panic? You saw for yourself how eager they all are to invent a bogeyman! There are children here, Joe. They’re having the time of their lives, roaming about the place completely unafraid. I’m not going to be the one to take away their confidence, to give them nightmares. These innocent years pass too quickly. Mine came to a sudden end when I was seven.’

She dashed on, not wanting to hear a comment from him: ‘And I’ve learned when it’s best to keep quiet. I wanted you to talk to me first—before you heard my strange experience. To get to know me a little. I’m not a fanciful storyteller. I wanted to see you ankle-deep in my cigarette ends on the spot where I saw what I saw, so that you’d understand that I wasn’t inventing anything.’

Joe peered over the edge, taking a measure of the distances involved. He glanced up at the pennant flying from the watchtower. Bending, he picked up a cigarette end, rubbed it between his fingers and sniffed. ‘Untipped, heavy-duty stuff! French tobacco, if I’m not mistaken? Estelle—tell me—what sort of cigarettes are these?’

‘Well, you’re right. They’re Gauloises. I like the strong taste. I started to smoke them because only men seemed to—defiance, you know. I like breaking down barriers. Shocking the prudes. And then I got to like them. Anything else seems insipid now.’

‘And were you actually smoking a cigarette at the time? At the time of the sighting, I mean.’

Estelle had frowned in concentration. ‘No. I’d just put one out. He couldn’t have glimpsed a light. But I see why you’re asking. Strong scent, too.’ She gulped and turned large eyes on Joe. ‘He’s sniffed me out, our effigy smasher, hasn’t he? He knows who I am. He knows I was watching him.’

All Joe could do was apologize for the obvious nature of his advice. She’d listened, amused, as he’d earnestly advised her not to be alone … to seek out the company of those she could trust.

‘Exactly what I have in mind,’ she’d said mysteriously. ‘No! Thank you, Joe—you’re a sweetheart!—but I really don’t need an escort to cross the corridor!’ She’d waved a hand towards the ladies’ dormitory, whispered goodnight, kissed him on the cheek and left him at his own door, his head still reeling from the enticement of her perfume. A lure which had not been thrown on the water to catch him, he acknowledged.

He stood just inside his doorway listening to her scurrying feet which took her straight past the dormitory and on to the end of the corridor. From the click-clack of her heels, he guessed that she didn’t much care if he heard, so eager was she to move on to her next assignation. He couldn’t make out whether she’d gone up or down the staircase—nor decide whether he was relieved or disappointed.

In the end he had to admit that he was concerned. Not fearful. But definitely concerned. And his concern centred on the women and children. In a few quiet moments with Dorcas, he’d made clear his preference that she sleep in the small dorm with the little ones, just a door away from the single women’s quarters. And across the corridor from his own cell. She’d listened quietly and told him that she understood. He thought it very likely that she understood quite as much as he did himself.

At least Dorcas seemed content and busy. Since her status had been publicly acknowledged on the first day, she’d thrown herself into doing exactly what she had made a play of despising and the children followed her everywhere, delighted to have a gang-leader. She’d tapped on his door last evening just after eight as he was dressing for dinner and reported all well with the junior squad. They’d had early supper and Estelle had been informed that all were present, correct, clean and in pyjamas. The cook’s children were spending the night here in the château instead of going back home to the village. When their mother stayed on, they generally stayed too, so including herself, the total was seven. And could she borrow his copy of Kim? There didn’t seem to be much in the way of reading material about the place. Joe had reminded her that Orlando would be bound to know where the books were kept.