“A candle will do for now.” He holds it aloft when she brings it, squinting down into the darkness. In the meager light it appears the stairwell goes down at least a full floor, and likely deeper, to judge by the cool, damp smell that wafts up.

He’s smiling when he glances back at her. “When I was a boy, I was sure there must have been a hundred such passages in my father’s house,” he says. “I searched for hours and hours, but never found one. To my great disappointment.”

It’s clear he sees no great cause for caution. “Bring a second candle, so you can light your way,” he says, “and a few of the unlit tapers in case these should go out. Perhaps we’ll find a wine cellar that the master of house never discovered.”