Privacy

The door gently closed behind me. I slipped across the room silent in my stocking feet. He lay with his head down upon the desk, soundly sleeping, pencil still poised in his hand. The candle beside him was burning halfway down. Do I dare blow it out? No, I cannot give myself away. The pencil was there, but his papers where gone. What had he done with them? I needed to find them. It was the only way I would know what he was thinking, what he was going to do. I looked around. There was a padlock upon the second drawer of the desk. That settled it. No need to creak open the others. I yanked the lock half-heartedly. It gave way.