The servant froze; a sound? Perhaps not. He continued preparing the meal. She had returned in a foul mood and ordered that dinner should be served at seven that evening. Fifteen minutes to go and so far everything was on time. A good meal, fine wine, an intelligent book to read and maybe her anger would fade. Another sound; he froze again, A soft tread on a badly fixed board. His hands started to shake as he stirred the f...