“What’s that?” said the nervous policeman, hovering near the girl.
The wind let them move forward. As they passed along the railings it seemed to them the doors of the church were open, and the windows were out, and the snow and the voices were blowing in a wild career all through the church.
“How extraordinary that they left the church open!” said the girl.
The policeman stood still. He could not reply.
And as they stood they listened to the wind and the church full of whirling voices all calling confusedly.
“Now I hear the laughing,” she said suddenly.
It came from the church: a sound of low, subtle, endless laughter, a strange, naked sound.
“Now I hear it!” she said.
But the policeman did not speak. He stood cowed, listening to the strange noises in the church.
The wind must have blown out one of the windows, for they could see the snow whirling in volleys through the black gap, and whirling inside the church like a dim light. There came a sudden crash, followed by a burst of chuckling, naked laughter. The snow seemed to make a queer light inside the building, like ghosts moving, big and tall.