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It was very cold. The sky was dark and heavy with unshed snow.
A man in a dark overcoat, and his hat pulled down over his eyes, put his finger on the bell.
Mrs. Casey, her hands busy in the sink, eventually toiled up the stairs and opened the door.
"Second floor, you can go on up. Does she expect you?" The man slowly shook his head.
"Mrs. Lyons?" the silhouetted man outside asked in a whisper.
When the man got round the bend of the staircase he begin to whistle softly. The tune he whistled was three blind mice.