Once or twice, as the hours passed, he heard a stealthy footstep in the corridor outside, and once the faintest possible little click told that the latch of his door had been lifted to make sure that the bolt was still shot home in its socket.

Hillyard smiled.
"You are safe, my friend," he breathed the words towards the anxious one in the corridor.

"No one can get in.

The door is locked.

The door of the dressing-room too.