The small casement window in the cloakroom creaked open, and a girlish figure slipped out from the pitch-black interior and dropped silently into the flower bed. It had been raining earlier in the night, but now the air was cool and clear, and the moon was floating above the low crest of woods beyond the park, showing the pale silvery outline of the treetops. The child stood still, crouched animal-like against the wall, her head hidden inside the hood of a robe. Everything was very quiet and still, the only sound the faint murmur of a car passing on the lane toward the village, but the child remained frozen, peering into the darkness as if in fear. Excerpted from Mischief at Midnight by Esme Kerr All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.