She wasn't sure where she should check first. The sitting room? Her room? The parlor? Her knuckles whitened on the knife's handle as she made her way into her foyer, feet landing without a sound.
And, most unfortunately for her, she chose the sitting room.
Demelza had gone to the lengths of having Muggle electricity installed in some of the bigger rooms, where it would be inconvenient to light each candle on the chandelier, and gripping the knife, she switched on her one lamp in the sitting room, a flicker of apprehension rippling through her.
There he was. Her scream died in her throat, and she wavered for a second, holding the knife to her side.