“Come, Lexy!” the captain said.
They both turned for one last look at the accursed house, blazing with spectral lights. Then they set off, away from it, over that weary road again.
“There’s no police station in the village, is there?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen one, but I’ve heard[Pg 362] Mrs. Royce talk about the constable. Anyhow, she can tell us.”
“Yes,” he said, and was silent for a moment. “Rather a pity, isn’t it,” he went on, “that there has to be—all that? Because it doesn’t matter now. It’s finished. Better if the house burned down to-night!”
In her heart Lexy agreed with him. She had no curiosity left, and scarcely any interest. As he had said, it was finished. She wanted to rest, not to speak, not to think, not to remember; but it couldn’t be so. They would both have to tell what they had seen, to answer questions. It wasn’t enough that two people lay dead in that house of horror. All the world, which knew and cared nothing about them, must have a full explanation.
“I suppose we couldn’t wait till morning?” she suggested.
He took her hand and drew it through his arm.
“You’re worn out,” he told her. “It’s altogether wrong. There’s no reason why you should be troubled any more, Lexy. Slip into the house quietly, and get to bed and to sleep. Nobody need know that you went there.”
“No!” she said. “We’ll see it through together.”