After I’d followed him out of his study, Mr. Hayes avoided looking at me and barely spoke as he gave me a perfunctory tour.

“This is the kitchen,” was all he said as we passed through it, heading up a staircase before I could take it all in properly. “This is your room,” he mumbled, throwing a careless hand to the left as he passed an open door. He kept going down the hallway for a few steps before stopping and indicated a closed door on the right with an impatient gesture. ...