The Agatha Christie Book Club were standing in one line at the very top of the driveway, staring out at what would otherwise be a magnificent view if it wasn’t for the ominous plume of smoke blighting the forest below. They were already getting wafts of it in the gentle breeze, and the hotelier was, for now, forgotten, as their thoughts turned to Mrs Flannery.
“At least we know why she’s not back yet,” said Simon. “She’s obviously caught on the other side of that smoke.”
Lynette thought of Blake suddenly and gasped. Missy was gasping too, but it wasn’t Blake she was thinking of.
“Do you suppose that’s why the phones were ringing all morning?” Missy said. “Maybe Mrs Flannery was cut off and was calling to warn us of the fire, but none of us picked up.”
“It wasn’t our job to answer the phones,” said Simon. “We weren’t to know.”
“If only we’d picked up!” she said. “Now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, all alone with a fire raging towards us!”
“We’re not all alone, Missy,” said Claire. “There’s nine of us, and it’s not raging. Is it?”
“Eight!” said Lynette, but Claire was looking to Simon for an answer.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “The fire is far away, I’m sure of it.”
“And the firies will be onto it,” said Flo.
“The whaties?” asked Alicia.
“The Rural Fire Service, dear. Volunteer firefighters. We call ’em firies where I come from. Every country town has ’em—a scrappy crew of guys and gals who sign up to fight fires in their local area. They’ll be onto it toot sweet. Will stop it in its tracks, don’t you worry about that.”
“And if they don’t?” asked Missy.
“Then we enact our fire safety plan of course.”
“What’s that when it’s at home?” asked Perry.
“It’s what you do when a fire breaks out,” she told them. “Growing up in the country, we all had to make one. You had to decide whether you were going to stay and fight the fire—”
“Yeah, right!” said Perry, trying not to punctuate that suggestion with a derisive snort.
“Or,” she continued, flicking him a frown, “pack up and leave, and if so, what were you going to pack, and how soon were you going to choof off? There comes a point, you see, when it’s too late to go. And you certainly don’t want to get caught on the road in your vehicle. That’s possibly the worst place to be.”
Lynette gasped again. Did nobody remember Blake?
Perry said, “What vehicle? I don’t think the golf buggies will get us far.”
“I can drive a tractor,” said Flo. “Used to drive my dad’s old one.”
The woman was the size of a sparrow, but for some reason that didn’t surprise anybody.
Simon was holding up a hand. “Hate to break it to you, folks,” he said, “but I have a terrible feeling leaving is not an option for us. If Mrs Flannery is cut off, that means the fire is across the main road. It’s hard to tell from here but…”
“Oh yes, I think you might be right,” said Ronnie, peeling her eyes downwards. “As far as I recall, there is only one road in and one road out. The one we took yesterday, and that’s exactly where the fire’s coming from. Unless anyone knows of another route out?”
There were shrugs all round.
“If we stay here and bunker down, we should all be fine,” said Simon, but Lynette had had enough.
She stepped to the front of the group and turned to face them, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing with anger and disappointment. “I cannot believe the lot of you!” she said. “Has everybody forgotten about poor Blake? I know most of you had it in for him”—her glare was now directed at Perry and Alicia—“but he’s already left the lodge, trying to seek help. For all we know, he could be caught in the middle of all that!”
Alicia flinched. Lynette was right. She hadn’t even considered that possibility. She glanced at her watch. It was now almost five p.m. As far as she recalled, Blake left sometime after three, and it takes a good hour to get down the mountain. Had he made it down safely, before the fire started? The thickness of the smoke gave her cause to wonder.
What if he had got ambushed by the flames?
“Look, we’ve only just spotted the fire, and Blake left ages ago,” said Simon, soothingly. “I’m sure he made it through and he’ll be alerting them to our plight.”
“And if he didn’t make it through?” asked Lynette.
“Then I’m sure we’ll see his car return any moment now.”
As though in a pantomime, they all stopped and listened for the sound of a vehicle roaring up towards them, but all they could hear was the rustle of the wind and the call of lyre birds in the distance.
Then a lone kookaburra began to sing, mocking them with its jollity.
~
Darkness was rapidly descending, and the book club decided that worrying about Blake was going to get them exactly nowhere and it was time to get organised. It didn’t take a detective to know it would be a long, arduous night.
While Lynette and Perry went to “sort out some dinner,” Flo and Ronnie returned to the library to get a fire plan together while Simon said something unsettling about checking the fire alarms in case it caught them by surprise in the middle of the night.
That left Missy, Claire and Alicia, still gaping towards the smoke. They seemed rooted to the spot, unable to budge, as though by keeping a stern eye on the fire, it wouldn’t dare creep up on them.
“Is it getting any closer, do you think?” Missy asked eventually. “And is that a second fire down there, on that lower ridge? Or is it all one giant inferno?”
“Thanks for that, Missy,” said Alicia, shuddering. “We should have taken a photo of it earlier to compare.” She reached into her pocket but found it empty. “Anyone bring their smartphone?”
The other women shook their heads. “No point,” said Missy. “They’re useless here. We are all alone!” She directed that comment at Claire. “What are we going to do? How are we even going to think about sleeping with a fire burning down the ridge?”
The others shrugged. None of them had any experience of fires.
“Flo knows fires and she’s not at all worried,” said Claire, “and neither is Simon.”
“Yes, but with all due respect, what do they know, really?” said Alicia. “Flo’s a country girl, comes from dusty flat paddocks out west. Simon’s from Sydney, isn’t he? The middle of the city if I remember his address correctly. Neither of them knows this particular mountain, this particular forest. It could be roaring towards us for all we know, and we’re sitting here like kindling!”
Alicia had already imagined them scrambling through the scorching forest, flames snapping at their feet. Had already worked out what possessions she would grab—just her sister, her book club friends and her ragged copy of And Then There Were None. It had been her mother’s, and they would have to pry it from her scorched dead hands.
“Actually, I know someone who might have more of an idea,” Claire said, adding, “We’re not quite as alone as we think we are. Simon said something to me earlier about spotting an old guy squatting in the middle of the forest. Says he looked a bit rough, but, well, if he’s a true local, he might know how long we’ve got or if there’s another road out.”
Missy clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s such a relief! Good thinking, Claire. We need to find him and fast! Where is he? Did Simon say?”
Claire gulped and looked at Alicia. “Yes but you’re not going to like it.”
~
Lynette stared into the cold room and beamed. She loved it!
The lodge was incredibly well stocked considering their low guest numbers; almost as well stocked as the inner-city restaurant where she cooked. There were crates of fresh fruit and vegetables, boxes of the basics—tinned goods, cereals, flour, rice, pasta—as well as multiple smaller sealed plastic containers all perfectly labelled with enticing words like Persian Fetta and Lyle’s Own Pesto. All with dates scribbled across them.
“Looks like you’ve got plenty to work with,” said Perry.
“I guess these remote places have to keep supplies up,” she said as she stepped in to inspect some cherry tomatoes.
“So why would Mrs Flannery need to drive into town then?”
She shrugged. She didn’t care. She was going to have fun whipping up dinner tonight.
Swooning at an enormous container of fresh goat’s cheese, Perry asked, “So what’s on the menu, chef?”
Lynette ummed and aahed for a few minutes, glancing around, and then she noticed a handwritten recipe sitting on the bench top amidst all the breakfast debris. She picked the recipe up and smiled.
“Looks to me like Mrs Flannery was going to whip up a Bucatini all’Amatriciana tonight.”
“What’s that in anyone else’s language?”
Lynette smiled. “A delicious spicy tomato and pancetta pasta.” She dropped her head to the side. “Yeah, why not? Let’s keep it simple.” Then she scooped up the almost-empty bottle of red wine on the bench and handed it to Perry. “Okay, sous chef, see if you can find some more plonk. Proper plonk, though, not this cheap cooking stuff. We opened a good cab sav at the bar last night. See if there’s another. And I’ll get this kitchen back in shape so we can get dinner rolling.”
“I can fetch some fresh parsley if you like,” said Flo, watching now from the doorway. “I noticed a lovely herb patch, just behind this kitchen.”
“Really?” said Lynette, stepping to the back door and opening it wide to reveal more than a lovely herb patch. There was an enormous vegetable garden out there too, bursting with all kinds of produce, as well as a garden shed and a large chicken coop. “Grab some of those lovely ripe tomatoes while you’re at it,” she told Flo.
As Flo headed out, Lynette glanced towards some fresh baguettes and then reached for a bulb of garlic. If this was going to be their last meal, she was going to make it a magnificent one!
~
The light was fast waning as they made their way carefully along the forbidden Repentance Way, and Alicia decided Claire was right. She didn’t like it one bit.
In parts the track hugged the very edge of the escarpment, and it wasn’t simply walkers on the track below who could get hurt if the rocks beneath them gave way. One misstep, and all three of them would be hurtling downwards. The rotting railing was as good as useless.
She wished they’d thought of that before they began, wished they’d been a little smarter about it—brought a torch, alerted the others to where they were going, that kind of thing. But time was of the essence, and so they had thrown caution to the wind and set off. But the longer they walked, the more worried she became.
They didn’t know who this squatter was and whether he was even friendly. Why was he living out here in the bush? Was he a loner? A survivalist? A psychopath?
“Do we know anything about this guy?” said Missy, voicing Alicia’s concerns.
Claire went to say something, then stopped and pointed. “Look, through there, near the edge of the ridge, that must be his house.”
They all took in the view. From what they could see, the house was more of a cabin—a slab hut with a rusty tin roof and a small cement water tank on one side—and on the other, the most extraordinary view, better even than the one from the lodge. Set close to the edge of the escarpment, it looked out across the blue misty highlands and the rainforest-carpeted ridges down to the sweeping valley and teeny tiny Lyleton below.
“Not a bad place to be homeless,” Missy said.
“He’s not homeless,” Alicia retorted.
“You know what I mean!”
As they approached, the women sang out, hoping to give the stranger plenty of warning, but he did not appear, so Alicia bravely stepped forward and knocked on the rattly wooden door. An enormous Huntsman spider scuttled across the wooden frame, causing Missy to squeal and Alicia to recoil.
Other than that, there was no response.
“Maybe he’s gone for a walk or something?” said Missy, swallowing deep settling breaths.
“Seems a bit late for a walk,” said Claire.
Alicia felt her heart drop. Perhaps he’d seen the fire and had already cleared out.
“Oi! What do you lot want?” came a gruff voice behind them, and all three women jumped as if the spider had leapt out and bitten them.
~
After locating handfuls of fresh herbs and cherry tomatoes in the well-tended garden, Flo glanced around. They were on the western side of the mountain, at the very back of the lodge, and the view from here was not as good as the other side, the trees crowding in too closely—although you couldn’t see the smoke, and that made Flo feel comforted. A pebbled pathway led from the garden to the chicken shed and then on towards an enormous fig tree where a decorative cast-iron bench seat had been placed. From there the pebbles continued, almost to the forest, before stopping abruptly—as though someone intended to head that way but thought better of it.
Flo noticed a mossy statue of a small angel perched on the edge of the herb patch, one wing smashed off, eyes rolling at the world as it glanced skyward, a smattering of wildflowers behind it. She stepped across and picked a few, then returned to the kitchen and dropped them into an old milk jug.
“I’m going to set a lovely table,” she said, hoping that would cheer them all up. “Perry, will you help me move the tables back together?”
After their troubling day, they needed to be united tonight. He happily obliged and then, as he returned to sous chef duties, Flo hunted around for a pretty tablecloth and laid it out, placing the flowerpot in the centre.
It really was perfect! Just like dinners at the old farmhouse.
“Need a hand setting the table?” Ronnie asked, stepping into the dining room.
“If you like, dear. See if you can find the silverware, and I’ll fetch some plates.”
~
As they quietly set the table, Flo humming a tune to herself, Ronnie’s mind wandered back to the old guest books.
She kept wondering whether she ought to say something to her old friend about what she’d discovered. Did she trust Flo enough to tell her? Should she go straight to the older Finlay girl, the one who seemed to be in charge?
“What are you thinking about, dear?” said Flo, interrupting her thoughts. “You look quite befuddled. Are you regretting signing up for this lovely little club?”
Ronnie tried for a smile. “Maybe. Are you?”
Flo shook her head firmly. “Best fun I’ve had in ages! Better than crocheting baby booties all day, I can tell you that. Feel more alive than I have for decades. Feel like I’m finally achieving something.”
Ronnie nodded thoughtfully. “Why did you sign up?” she asked as she secured a serviette beneath a fork. “What were you hoping for?”
Flo shrugged. “Bit of old-fashioned sleuthing, I guess. Why else would you sign up for an Agatha Christie Book Club?”
Why indeed, thought Ronnie, her thoughts darting off into dark corners again.
~
“Wondered how long it’d take you lot to find me,” the elderly man said, his voice slow and gravelly as he yanked off his beaten-up Akubra hat and strode past them and into the hut.
He was very tall and very thin with a few white whiskers on his weathered face and virtually nothing left on his head. The skin on his neck and forehead looked like a busy road map, deep lines criss-crossing each other at multiple points. The man must have been pushing eighty, but he had a gallop in his step, and as he passed them, he left a faint trail of stale tobacco, barbecue smoke, and fresh, wet sweat.
The women glanced at each other warily, unsure whether to follow when he called out:
“I’m puttin’ the billy on if you want a cup.”
Alicia smiled and led the way in. He can’t be too dangerous if he’s offering tea, she thought, and he certainly can’t be too worried about the fire.
The place was modestly decorated but surprisingly cosy with a small wood-fired stove in one corner and a plush bed in the other, a handcrafted rocking chair beside it with a checked blue-and-beige blanket flung across the top. It looked just like the one in Alicia’s room. On closer inspection, she decided it was just like the one in her room, and she wondered about that. Was he pilfering items from the lodge?
On an antique bedside cabinet she noticed a dusty silver frame with a sepia-toned photo inside. It showed a beautiful young woman who looked a little like Lynette, with long, fair hair and a wide, vibrant smile. Her eyes were also wide and full of mischief.
“Coffee? Tea? Even got Earl Grey, if that’s your fancy,” he said, directing that at Claire.
Alicia noticed that the teabags had the Lyle insignia on them, as did the cups, and raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously.
“No, thank you,” Claire said crisply.
“I’ll take a tea, please, if you’re offering. No milk or sugar thanks,” said Missy, and he turned to make it, pouring the water from an old electric kettle.
There was obviously power to the hut, and Alicia spotted a phone attached to the wall. He noticed her gaze and said:
“Hasn’t been connected in twenty years.”
She smiled weakly. Oh well, it was worth a shot.
“So,” he said, handing Missy her cup and leaning against the kitchen sink, his own brew in hand. “Vale know you’re here?”
They all stared at him, startled. In the excitement of the fire, they had forgotten all about the poor hotelier, and now Alicia felt a stab of guilt. Of course this old-timer knew Vale! They might have very different lodgings, but they were the only two men for miles. She glanced at Claire, who raised her eyebrows warily.
“Don’t worry, ladies.” He chuckled, misreading them entirely, his grey-blue eyes twinkling wickedly. “I won’t dob you in to the boss. I know how he can be a big girl’s blouse about that track.”
Missy giggled nervously, then hid her face in her cup while Claire gave Alicia a more pointed look this time. Somebody had to break the sad news.
Alicia took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Vale passed away last night.”
The man stared at her like she was joking. He waited a beat, then said, “What are you talkin’ about?”
“We… we found him in his bed this afternoon. He—”
“He can’t be dead!”
She offered him a sympathetic look. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope…” The man was refusing to believe. He turned and dumped his untouched drink in the sink, then stormed outside, the front door banging loudly behind him.
The women swapped worried frowns, then followed him out and couldn’t find him for a few moments before they spotted him right on the edge of the ridge, staring out at the extraordinary view as though it would somehow make it all better. The persistent smoke suggested otherwise, but he clearly wasn’t thinking about that.
He turned back to them, his eyes now red and rheumy, the twinkle extinguished, a deep channel etched between them. Like the news had just driven a fresh lorry across his face. Sniffing, he cleared his throat, then cleared his throat again.
“He was a good man, Vale,” he said at last, his voice croaky. “A good friend to the end.” He rubbed a hand roughly at his stubble. “What happened?”
Alicia shook her head. Unsure how much to reveal. Ronnie was not a doctor, after all. Perhaps she had it wrong.
He was nodding now, as though he knew exactly what had happened, and said, “And Joan? How’s she taking it?”
“Joan?”
“Joan Flannery, the cook. She okay?”
Alicia nodded. “Yes, I mean, we think so. She left for town this morning—”
“She’s not back yet?” He looked outwards. “Must be cut off by the fire then.”
“That’s what we suspect.”
“Rightio, now it’s makin’ a bit more sense. You lot are scared, all alone back there in the lodge.”
“We’re not all alone,” said Claire, indignant. Why did everyone keep saying that? “There are several gentlemen in our group.”
“I’m talking about the fire, sweetheart. You’re wondering how long you’ve got.”
It was the elephant in the room. The real reason they had come, and Alicia felt guilty about that, of forgetting the hotel manager and thinking only of themselves.
“How long have we got?” she said, no longer pretending.
He turned to inspect the horizon. “It’s still below Cooper’s Crossing, so you’ve got that in your favour. Besides, it’s not the seventies. They’ll stop it long before it gets up here. They won’t let that happen again.”
“Who?”
“Firies, of course. They’ve got choppers now, much better equipped. You’ll be right.”
“What about you?” Missy asked. “Aren’t you worried?”
He shook his head and smiled, revealing a few missing molars. “Nah, love. Nothing will get me off this mountain now. This is where I belong.” Then he turned back to the view and said, “In the midst of life we are in death. Now where did I read that…?”
Missy recognised the line. It was straight from the Agatha Christie book they’d been dissecting; she distinctly remembered highlighting it. Gulping, she glanced at the others, wondering if they’d noticed. Had he been spying on them, she wondered?
Was he playing with them now, or was it a coincidence?
“Do you think that’s what’s killed our phone lines?” asked Claire, and he looked back sharply.
“Lines are down?”
She nodded.
“Very likely then.” But he didn’t look like he believed it. His frown was firming, his eyes darting about.
“How long do we have?” Alicia asked. “If they can’t control it?”
His eyes stopped on her. “Rainforest doesn’t burn fast, doesn’t normally burn at all, so that’s also in your favour. Plus it’s almost nightfall, should slow right down now the temperature’s dropping. There’s no rain comin’, not for a few days yet, but I suspect the winds’ll change by morning. Firies should have it under control by then anyway.”
“And if they don’t?” asked Alicia.
He shrugged. He didn’t have an answer for that.
“Okay,” she said, feeling anything but. She gave Claire and Missy the nod and said, “Thank you for your time, and we’re so sorry about Vale.”
“Like I said, death is just part of life, love.”
She nodded, then realised they hadn’t even been introduced. “I’m Alicia, by the way, and this is Claire and Missy. We’re up here for the weekend. Obviously.” He nodded and returned to the view, so she said, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Don’t worry about that now, love,” he said. “Focus on getting through the night.”
~
“He was rude,” said Claire as they made their way back.
“And a little creepy,” added Missy, wondering whether she ought to say something about the line he’d quoted. It all seemed a bit silly now. Why would an old guy be spying on them? Had to be a coincidence, or maybe it was a common line. Ah yes, that’s right. It was a prayer, wasn’t it?
“I quite liked him,” said Alicia. “Salt of the earth. And he certainly knows his forest.”
“Must love it too,” said Claire. “He sounds like he wants to die in it.”
“I can vaguely understand that,” said Alicia. “He’s obviously a local, was probably born and bred up here. And he’s not getting any younger. Where else is he going to go?”
Claire shuddered. “Let’s just hope those so-called firies do make it.”
“Or Blake,” said Missy. “Don’t forget Blake. He’s probably down there now, organising our rescue.”
Alicia and Claire shared a frown.
~
The second dinner at Lyle’s Lodge was very different to the first. As they devoured Lynette’s dish—well, all of them except Flo, who seemed to have lost her appetite entirely—the group seemed reluctant to discuss dead bodies or missing people or the distant fire. It was as though they had mutually agreed to give themselves a reprieve, and instead, an eerie kind of silence fell upon the group. When they did speak, it was to compliment Lynette on the meal, which was indeed magnificent, or to ask someone to pass the wine.
What they weren’t to know was that it was all that alcohol that would end up changing the tone entirely.
“Shall I hunt for more?” asked Perry, tipping the last of the cabernet sauvignon into Claire’s glass.
“God yes!” said Lynette as similar sentiments echoed around the table. “Although I have a terrible feeling we’ve depleted the bar’s supplies.”
Lynette remembered her drinking session with Blake last night. It felt like a lifetime ago now.
“Check the cellar then,” said Ronnie.
“There’s a cellar?” said Lynette.
Claire frowned. “I don’t recall seeing one when we did our search earlier.”
Ronnie shrugged a shoulder. “It’s an old lodge, miles from anywhere. There’s got to be a cellar.”
Simon nodded. “You’d hope so. I’m not nearly drunk enough yet.”
He laughed apologetically, but most of them agreed. They were going to need to dull the senses to get through this night.
“Mission accepted,” Perry said, getting to his feet. “Any idea where I might find this mysterious cellar?”
They all stared blankly, and Flo said, “If you do find it, dear, d’ya mind digging about for some sherry. I prefer a drop of sherry after I’ve had me tea.”
~
As Perry strode out of the dining room, determination in his step, Simon suggested they all adjourn to the bar while he cleared the plates away. Claire smiled appreciatively. This wasn’t Agatha Christie’s day. She liked a man who was not afraid to step up and do his bit.
“We’ll help you, dear,” said Ronnie, giving Flo a nudge. They weren’t used to men of a certain age stepping up at all, certainly not when it came to kitchen duties.
“And I’m going to check that fire again,” said Lynette, catching her sister’s eye.
Alicia scooped up her empty wine glass and said, “I’ll do the breakfast shift. See you all at the bar in five. BYO glasses so we can reduce the washing up!”
After dropping their own glasses on the countertop, the sisters made their way outside and stopped for a moment to soak up the view. The moon had turned an extraordinary shade of orange. It was almost blood red.
“It’s breathtaking,” said Lynette. “Seems so inappropriate considering what’s going on.”
“It’s probably because of what’s going on,” said Alicia. “The fire must be causing that, but can you smell the smoke? It’s getting thicker. And is that…?” Alicia held a palm out and watched with horror as a small fleck of black landed in it. “Is that ash? Oh my God, the fire must be getting closer.”
“Don’t start panicking,” said Lynette. “We are going to be okay.”
Alicia dusted her palm off, trying hard to believe that.
~
The three new book club members cleared the table and washed the dishes in silence for a while, and then Simon cleared his throat and said, “It’s been quite an initiation to the club, hasn’t it, ladies?”
Flo cackled and Ronnie frowned. Initiation was one word for it. She was not sure she would last long with this mob.
“I’m having the time of my life,” said Flo, echoing her earlier sentiment.
“How about this old lodge, hey?” he said. “Would you come back? After all this?”
“Oh I won’t be back,” said Flo, her smile now dissolving.
“I thought you were having a fine time,” said Ronnie.
“I am, dear. But I think one visit is enough for one lifetime. Besides, the spirit of that hotel manager will be haunting the corridors now.” She grimaced. “Not sure I want to meet up with that fellow again!”
Simon looked up from the sink, horrified.
~
Perry was feeling victorious as he made his way down the rickety wooden staircase. He was so proud of himself for finding the cellar!
It was located through a door just down from the dining room, and they had all walked past it many times on their way to their rooms, yet no one, it seemed, had noticed. Still, it had been cleverly disguised. Hidden in plain sight.
The door was low and small and obscured by the mural of a faux bookshelf that had been painted across the door and wall in the long corridor. It was only when Perry was about to hold up the white flag that he spotted the handle, masquerading as a book.
“Got ya!” he said, pulling it open with a loud, angry creak.
A draft of icy air swept up towards him, and something else, something slightly off. He grappled about on the wall beside the door until he found a light switch, then flicked it on and waited for his eyes to adjust as the dust danced about before him. That’s when he saw the steep staircase reaching downwards and twisting around to the right. He smiled jubilantly and made his way in.
Despite the goose bumps now popping up across his arms, Perry really wasn’t prepared for what he’d find down there. It was only as he hit the bottom step and glanced about that he saw the body, slumped on the stone floor, one hand clutching a bottle of Jacob’s Creek, a second bottle, a Penfolds Grange, smashed on the hard ground nearby.
What a waste of a top drop, he thought before the horror of what he was staring at hit him like that broken bottle, and he staggered back, landing hard on his buttocks on the lower step.
He pulled himself up, twisted himself around, and rushed back up the staircase.