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A SHORT STORY: THE LANDLADY Billy Weaver traveled down from London on the slow afternoon train. He got to Bath at about nine o’clock. Billy was seventeen years old. He walked down the street and suddenly, in a downstairs window that was brilliant illuminated by a street lamp, Billy saw a printed notice. It said BED AND BREAKFAST. It looked to him as though it would be a pretty decent boarding-house to stay in, and certainly it also would be cheaper than staying in a pub.He pressed the bell. A woman in her fifties opened the door. She gave him a warm welcoming smile. Billy took his coat and realized there were no other coats or hats in the hall. There were no umbrellas; no walking-sticks- nothing.“You see, it isn’t very often I take a visitor into my little nest. I’m so glad you appeared I was beginning to get worried!”, she said. “Would be kind enough to pop into the sitting-room and sign the book? Everyone has to do that.”He found the guest book lying on the piano, and wrote down his name and address. There were only two other entries above his on the page – ChristopherMulholland and Gregory Temple? These names sound familiar…” he said. “Weren’tthese the names of the schoolboys who disappeared two years ago? He asked.“Would you like some milk?” she asked. “And sugar?”“Excuse me, but weren’t there any other guests here in the last two years?”“No, my dear,” she said. “Only