<strong>Day Two</strong><br/><br/>Irene pushed the door open to reveal the monastically tidy room.  A bed jutted out from beneath a window in the thick wall to the center of the room, to the left of the bed in the same wall was a door, one of two exits from the second floor coutesan quarters, barred on the inside, a small table sat by the bed with a pair of pewter goblets and a pitcher of water.<br/><br/>The door to the room entered facing the foot of the iron bedstead.  Irene stepped to the right, towards the door into the bath room and giving the man plenty of room to enter.<br/><br/>"You can put your gun in the corner, and there are pegs on the wall to hold your gun belt and hat..."  All business, Irene moved into the bath room and began clearing out the dirtied water.  A week was long enough to use it, she figured and bailed the tub into the drain sink where it transfered through piping somewhere it wouldn't make a mess.<br/><br/>No sooner did she finish than three kitchen workers arrived carrying big bukets of hot water.  She directed them to pour three in the tub and she'd pump in cold water.  The remaining three buckets of steaming water were set along the wall for rinsing.  It was a long draw for the water and it had been a while since Irene had actually added cold water...maybe longer than a week...she didn't remember.  She pumped until the water poured in and then kept the flow going to nearly half the tub's level.  Mr. Markam's body would fill the remainder, she mused.  But, he wasn't a stocky man; no long and leanly muscular...  She flicked some of the cold water onto her face and kept pumping.<br/><br/>"Mr. Markham?  Your bath is ready."  Irene's eyes darted to make sure towels and soap were at hand.  She moved a little stool from the wall to the head of the tub and sat down.