Tristan crammed all the books and papers into the cupboard. In his hurry, he did not see the letter he brushed off the table while he picked up the last pile. By the time he had safely locked the cabinet door on the compromising hoard, it had slipped under the bookcase and only its corner stuck out like a seductive invitation to an inquisitive visitor. Tristan certainly did not see it. He closed his door and rushed down the stairs.

When he entered the kitchen he was glad to see that Pippa was alright. Physically at least. But her excessive cleaning caused him such concern that he stopped before reaching the table and watched her. "It's already clean, Pippa," he said softly.