No one was awake to see it happen, except Rickman.
He was taking one of his midnight prowls, pad- ding past the bedrooms of sleeping people, hoping to find something interesting to eat. He was nearly
always hungry. Against the wall he found a dead fly, a choco- late chip, and a small piece of red crayon, which he also ate. He was not a picky cat. At the end of the hallway, he slipped into Mr. Rylance’s studio. In front of the drafting table was a chair he liked, and Rickman heaved himself up.