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intruder had snooped. Maybe it
had
simply been a nosey passer-by.
    We ventured into what remained of the kitchen, where a huge old-fashioned wood-burning stove stood at one end, and some battered pots and pans hung from hooks along the wall above it. The whole kitchen, like the rest of the house, was covered in layers of dust.
    â€˜This place needs a serious clean,’ I said. Past the pantry was the laundry. Off the laundry was the ancient toilet. I pulled the rusty chain and to my surprise, dirty water spluttered out in a noisy flush. ‘Hey guys,’ I called to the others, ‘all mod cons here!’
    We walked back through to the main staircase. ‘Let’s explore upstairs,’ I said.
    â€˜Careful,’ said Boges. ‘She might be walking upstairs.’
    â€˜I’ll take my chances,’ I said, smiling. ‘Anyway, if she is, she should be paying me rent.’ At the top of the stairs, there were several rooms that ran off the landing. Pushing open doors, we found dusty old bedrooms. Right at the end of the second floor, narrow timber stairs led up to a square room, with wide windows, bare of furniture apart from a round rug and a heavy chest which we couldn’t open.
    â€˜That’s mysterious,’ Ryan said.
    â€˜Wow, you can see all the way to the town from here,’ Boges said, his nose against the glass.
    I went down the few steps back onto the main landing and walked up to the other end where another short set of stairs led to a similar room overlooking the sea. I stared out at the misty horizon, wondering if Perdita used to stand here waiting for Captain Greenlowe to sail back home.
    The door nearest the top of the staircase hung crookedly from its hinges and I gave it a shove and walked in. This looked like the master bedroom, with a wide balcony outside the French windows. They were locked but the big old key still stood in the lock and after a few twists and turns, it unlocked with a groan and I stepped outside. The balcony overlooked the oval driveway and the front of the house. From this vantage point, I could see a thick grove that seemed impenetrable, yet there seemed to be some sort of building deep in the centre.
    â€˜Great view,’ said Boges, joining me on the balcony. He leaned forward, frowning. ‘What’s that in the grove?’
    â€˜I was just wondering that. It was probably a nice park when it was first planted. Maybe it’s a summer house in the middle.’
    We wandered back outside to take a better look at the grounds, walking past the grove to where the property ended at the edge of a steep cliff.
    â€˜You wouldn’t want to be stumbling around here in the dark,’ said Boges.
    I went further ahead and peered over. ‘Take a look at this!’ Beneath us, about fifty metres down, a wide beach swept in a graceful curve to the north. ‘And look,’ I said as the others came up to join me, ‘there’s Curly. What’s he doing down there?’
    Curly seemed to be finding something very interesting in the rocks right under the cliff face beneath us.
    â€˜Could be looking for bait,’ suggested Ryan.
    I wanted to go down to the beach but there wasn’t enough light so we got to work setting up a makeshift dining table and chairs from crates and old bits of timber that were lying around.
    â€˜So, why would anybody want this place sobadly?’ Boges asked as we spread our goodies in front of the roaring fire we’d built. ‘It’d cost a fortune to restore—even if you pulled it down and rebuilt it.’
    â€˜I guess it’d take hundreds of thousands of dollars to get into shape again,’ I said wistfully.
    I’d brought the old newspaper cutting about the Drowner with me, and we talked about it and what the thirty days might mean, but didn’t get anywhere. We were on a countdown, but to what? At least I felt safer being away from the city, and from where any more