Leslie Hartley - The Complete Short Stories of L.P. Hartley

Night flooded in, hitting her in the face; but of course it would be dark for the curtains had not been drawn as hers had; no doubt the housemaid had been told not to call Count Olmütz, who arrived so late and slept so late. It was strange, after the cheerful radiance of her room, to be plunged into darkness again; strange and disquieting.

‘Oh, why should I bother?’ Mildred asked herself, with an eye on her dismantled suitcase, ‘it’s no business of mine.’

Curiosity killed the cat. It didn’t kill Mildred, although what she saw seemed to have killed two people, if what they had given to each other was the blood that united them in a tangled coil, blood almost as dark and solid as to be snake-like.

Darkness gave way to daylight, and all was in readiness for Mildred’s flight. Gratuity in hand, she muttered some words to the butler who had come to fetch her suitcase, words of thanks and words of warning, as casual as she could make them, and as hasty. ‘The police, my lady?’ asked the butler, wide-eyed. She had no time to disclaim the title but said, ‘Well, there is something dripping in the room next door; it may be a plumber’s job.’

‘Very good, my lady, but in my experience, the police come quicker than the plumbers.’

‘Will the police find anything,’ Mildred wondered, ‘that I have found or haven’t found?’