‘They can’t come in,’ she shrieked.
‘Who can it be?’ Mr. Femm looked from one to the other and his voice quavered.
Penderel answered him. ‘More visitors. Benighted, like us.’ He looked across at Waverton and grinned.
‘They can’t come in,’ Miss Femm shrieked again.
This angered Philip and he found his voice. ‘That’s what they are, I expect,’ he told Mr. Femm. ‘You’ll have to let them in, of course. It’s probably dangerous to be out now.’
The knocking had stopped now. There was a faint sound of voices. Mr. Femm glanced rapidly from Philip to his sister. Then the knocking began again.
Penderel stood up. ‘The poor beggars must be half drowned. We can’t keep them waiting there.’
‘No, we shall have to let them in.’ Mr. Femm bent forward and looked at his sister. ‘Of course they will have to come in, if they want shelter. Morgan, go and open the door.’
Miss Femm pushed back her chair and looked up at Morgan. ‘Go on then,’ she cried, pointing to the door. ‘And I’ll come with you and see who they are.’ Morgan lumbered forward and very slowly drew back the bolts. When he had opened the door an inch or two so that Miss Femm might peer out, it was unexpectedly thrown wide open and someone came in, pushing past the two at the door. It was a girl, all wet and muddy. She came further into the room, stopped to draw a long breath, then threw herself into the nearest chair and cried: ‘My God! What a night!’
She was followed by a bulky middle-aged man, equally wet and muddy. For a moment he stood there looking about him and gasping for breath. Then he removed his dripping hat and showed them a ruddy face with a heavy shaven jowl. ‘Thought you were never going to open that door. Never knew such a night. There’s a reservoir burst or something and a big landslide. Smashed my car and only just got away with our lives. Doubt if you’re safe here. Phew!’ He mopped his face and then looked from one to another of them. ‘Sorry to barge in like this, but you see how it is. Who’s the owner here?’