Bancroft followed right behind them, climbing the stairs at a measured pace. As soon as Effie and Lyman stepped into the room, there was a loud *thud*—the door slammed shut behind them.
From the hallway came Bancroft’s anxious voice, accompanied by the sound of his fist knocking on the door. “Oh dear! What now? Looks like the wind must’ve blown the door shut.”
Lyman turned on the flashlight app on his phone and glanced toward the window. Since they rarely stayed overnight in this room, the windows and doors were only opened at scheduled times for air circulation; otherwise, everything was kept tightly closed.
There were no windows open at the moment—no draft, no airflow. There was no way a gust of wind could have slammed the door like that.
Which meant Bancroft had done it on purpose.
Just then, they heard the butler’s voice outside the door. “Sir, everything’s ready. The power won’t be coming back on before sunrise.”
Bancroft immediately shushed him, raising a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down! They’ll hear you.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll be careful.”
Standing by the door, Effie and Lyman couldn’t help but exchange amused looks, grins tugging at their lips.
Those two old men were both a little hard of hearing. Even though they were trying to keep their voices down, to Effie and Lyman—who had perfectly normal hearing—they might as well have been shouting. Every word came through loud and clear.
Effie fanned herself with her hand. “Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?”
She tugged at her collar, trying to cool down.
It wasn’t just her—Lyman felt it too.
He frowned. “With this weather, there’s no reason it should be so warm. I bet the old man slipped something into our drinks.”
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