the chest

part one
A young boy is clattering down a wide, ancient wooden staircase after a latin lesson with his tutor. He reaches a large ornate doorway and looks at the clock. 12.56. He stands beside the door watching the clock, but just seconds later, his eyes widening with astonishment, he spots a tall, very thin, balding man dressed in overalls sidling silently and at some speed under the same staircase towards the back of the house. Edward (the boy) does not recognise the man and, thinking that he might be a burglar (or worse!), resolves to follow - forgetting both lunch and his father.
The stranger heads down the corridor towards the kitchens but turns suddenly through the conservatory doorway into the large high-walled garden beyond. Staying close to the wall, he hurries towards the furthest corner of the garden moving so rapidly that Edward, keeping out of sight as best he can, has trouble keeping up. The man finally disappears behind some rhododendrons and Edward follows tentatively, his heart beating fast. As he reaches the other side of the bushes, he catches sight of the man disappearing through a door in the wall.
'A door in the wall?' thinks Edward. 'That's a door I've never noticed before!' It was a very small door, and clearly very old, though recently painted. Still frowning, Edward reaches the door - now closed - and , with a shaking hand, gently turns the handle. It opens smoothly and, as light enters the dark space beyond, Edward sees that there are narrow steps leading downwards. He listens for a moment and, hearing no sound, creeps slowly down the steps, pausing frequently to listen. The brick steps are narrow and there is a dank, musty smell and an oppressive atmosphere. Painted white long ago, they are faded now, and dirty. The door behind him creaks slowly closed of its own accord and Edward finds himself in almost pitch darkness except for a comforting chink of light under the door behind him. As he nears what he assumes to be the bottom of the staircase it turns a corner to the left and two things happen at once: a rush of damp cold air comes around the corner towards him and the courtyard clock strikes one. With his heart now in his mouth, lunch and father urge him swiftly back up the stairs and out into the warm sunlight. Hurrying back through the conservatory to the corridor and the dining room beyond, he reaches the door. Pausing to catch his breath and pull himself into a calmer frame of mind, and having brushed white dust from the staircase off his clothes, he knocks timidly on the door and his father's voice booms for him to enter.