‘We’re probably cut off altogether by this time.’ Penderel found the idea attractive. The five of them were shipwrecked. There had come at last a break in the smooth and dreary sequence of things. He hoped they were cut off at least for a few hours. ‘According to these people here, it’s happened at least once before. The house itself is all right, but it might easily be impossible to get away from it.’ But it didn’t look impossible though, and he couldn’t help wishing the evidence were plainer. He didn’t want everything to settle down again.
Gladys surprised him by touching at once the core of his thought. ‘You’re rather pleased about it, aren’t you? Anything for a bit of excitement’s your motto, isn’t it?’
‘Perhaps it is,’ he replied. ‘But I hope you’re not going on to say that you’ve met my sort before. That would make me very angry. I like to think I’m original.’
She reflected for a moment. ‘No, I’ve met all sorts, and some were a bit like you but not really very like. You’re different really.’
‘Now that’s a compliment,’ he cried. ‘Nothing like being different. You’re different too.’
‘Of course you’d have to say that, wouldn’t you?’ She turned her head to look him in the face. Her eyes seemed enormous in that strange half-light of the open door. ‘But you don’t really believe it. I know.’
‘You don’t know.’ This was silly stuff, but he had an odd desire to tease her.
‘Yes, I do. You shut up,’ she retorted, quite calmly. ‘Run away and get that flask. Where’s the car?’
‘Just round the corner here somewhere.’ He waved his left hand. ‘It’s in a shed or coach-house or something and won’t be locked up. Can I borrow the torch?’
She handed it to him. ‘I’ll wait here for you.’