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Edward climbed up the last set of stairs. His right kneecap crackled when he flexed the joint under it, and he was breathing heavily. Under his moustache and around his hatband he sweated invisibly. At last he reached the fourth floor landing. He bade his heart slow down, and noticed that his surroundings had, between there and the floor below, become much more ornate: opulent in a faded, wistful way. The colour of the wallpaper was dark, and that of the wood darker. All was illuminated by a solitary, dim lightbulb, hung inside the trappings of what was once a gas mantle.