Closed to the public, there was little air in the tower, since many gaps in the stonework have been closed up. I stepped carefully. It would not do to trip on those tall triangular steps. I felt panic scant seconds away--if it got too bad I would simply call it off, turn and retreat. Only the thought that no one was behind me, that there was a way out, kept me going. At the door to the gallery we paused.
"Can you open it?" I asked.
"They didn't give me the key!" replied the lady guard.
The authorities had decided to prevent any chance of harm by denying her the key to the terrace where, a hundred and thirty years ago, two young women had spent their last moments. In Murder in Old Bombay, I explored what might have happened.