I fastened the gate into the field with great care, went in and kicked off my muddy shoes in the porch, let the dogs out of the kitchen where they were barking like mad things and then padded upstairs to Michael's room. I could hear Mrs. Finch singing to herself in the study above the noise of the hoover. With any luck, I thought, I'll get some more elevenses when Michael gets his beef-tea at whatever time he wakens up.
I tip-toed into the room and stopped dead in amazement. Michael had wakened up; in fact, he had got up; the bed-clothes were flung back and the room was empty.
From WILLOW GREEN MYSTERY, Chapter 6, Lost Boy.