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into a few houses in his short life and felt no remorse at all. This house must have some rich pickings, he reasoned. Everyone knew farmers were wealthy and usually kept their money at home not trusting banks, and there was just one old woman living here. She must have it all hidden somewhere and would be an easy target to intimidate. Yet he hesitated. Finally, knowing that he had to find money from somewhere, he heaved himself up onto the window ledge and entered the house.

He found himself in a gloomy scullery. The same cobbles that had been in the yard were inside too, a large stone sink was in the corner and an old gas cooker leaned against it. The window slid shut silently behind him. His eyes became accustomed to the darkness and he could make out a door on the opposite wall. He went through and found himself in a hallway with peeling wallpaper and a smell of damp and decay. A light showed from a room and he heard the sound of a radio playing faintly. He spent a long time at the edge of the doorway, waiting, listening for signs of life but heard nothing but the radio. Still he was afraid of entering, but even more afraid of not getting the money he needed and eventually he crept round the door into the room. It was cluttered, as if the contents of the whole house had been condensed into one room. One corner served as a kitchen with a small cooker and kettle. An unmade bed, covered in a dirty blanket made from knitted woollen squares sewn together was pressed against the wall. A large table with a velvet cloth took up the middle of the room and beside the ancient electric fire was a chair in which an old woman sat upright. He gave an involuntary jolt and jumped back against the door thinking she was dead. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed but he felt she was looking towards him, there seemed to be no sign of breathing yet he instinctively felt she was still alive. He shook himself he was a strong, young man armed with a knife and she was an old woman, small and frail, even if she was alive what could she do to him? He became aware she had opened her eyes and was looking at him.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, then he became angry with her, or himself, and produced his knife. He moved swiftly across the room and threatened her.

"Where's your money?" he snarled. She looked at him very calmly as if assessing him in some way. "I'll kill you and find it anyway, so you'd better hand it over now and I might let you alone." He moved towards her

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