Lady Chapman...

Adam looks at the clock.

10.30pm. Maybe not quite late enough. Lady Chapman could still be awake, reading a book in bed perhaps before turning in. Ilsa might still be getting ready to go out if she was going clubbing. He'd have to be careful.

"Wait here," he says and goes to the door.

"Remember - one nightdress, one pair of panties from each." Nathalie says. Then she smiles. "Oh God, you're so getting caught. I can't wait to see what they do to you!"

Adam grimaces at her, then without another word slips out into the corridor and shuts the door behind him.

Lady Chapman first, he thinks.

Her room is on the floor above. He knows that many of the floorboards creak, and he treads slowly and carefully around the edges of the floor where the wood is likely to be stronger. The walls are hung with paintings of grim looking ancestors and old weapons, long blunted but still kept polished.

What a strange place Chapman Hall would have been to grow up, he thinks.

Now, only a few of the rooms are in constant use. But fifty years ago, he thinks, what a place this must have been.

His ring tone sounds out, unexpected in the quiet. He cringes and waits. No one seems to have heard. He hears no sounds of alarm from elsewhere in the house. His heart pounding, he pulls out the phone and turns out onto Silent mode, cursing himself as an idiot, then checks his message.

It's a picture message from Nathalie. A posh chequered school dress, white knee high socks, and a small pink thong, laid out neatly on her bed. The message reads "all ready. bitten off more than you can chew? we'll see who gets taught a lesson, lol."

He licks his lips.

It will be worth it, he tells himself. He has to win.

Up the spiral stairs he goes, as quiet as he can, to the third floor. And then down another corridor.

And there, finally, is the door to Lady Chapman's room - large and oak and set with brass bindings.

There is no light shining under the door. Just a faint orange flickering - a dying candle, perhaps.

She must be asleep.

Perfect, he thinks.

But his nerve goes. He is sure to wake her. He's going to get caught.

She'll think I'm a thief. She'll think I'm a pervert. He pictures Nathalie's gloating face.

What's the alternative? he thinks. If I go back empty handed... well, I know what's waiting for me.

The thought strangely excites him. He puts it to the back of his mind and presses forward.

He can't hear anything through the door. The thick oak is far too dense. He realises he needn't gave worried about his ring tone disturbing anyone.

Now or never, he thinks. Heart in mouth, he slowly opens the door and slips into Lady Chapman's bedroom.

And stops in complete surprise.

It is not the sight he expected.