Gerda's steps slowed on the top three stairs. There was no one tonotice her pause or the small weary straightening movement of hershoulders before she inserted her key in the door of number 27. Therewas never anyone to notice in the quiet, discreetly lit corridors ofGrafton Mansions. People lived there, many people, behind the satinmapledoors and muted pastel decor, presumably known by name aswell as number to the uniformed porter who nodded gravely eachmorning and evening to Gerda, but people were residents in GraftonMansions, not neighbours.The door