The corridor, quiet as a cathedral sanctuary and lit by a solitary flickering candle, lay before Splendor, as she peered around her bedroom door. She wanted to think it yawned before her, but that would make it seem half-asleep. In fact, a lion's den couldn't look more dangerous. She'd no idea what that thing lurking in the shadowed corner behind the chrysanthemum vase was. A bronze bust stood on top of the chest of drawers. Did its eyes just move? Then there was the faintly musty smell, the scent of dead things.
"Coast's clear," Topaz whispered.
"Are you sure?"
"Are yer?"
Splendor smoothed her hands over her nightgown. The question was one she was struggling so badly to answer, her heart bucked against her rib cage. At least it didn't buck against her stays. These were on the bed.
"Ow! Don't lean on me so heavy. Do yer want ter knock me flat?"
"Yes. I mean no. I mean I do see. I just ... "
"It's one in the mornin'. Who the tearin' 'ell is goin' ter be up but us?"