She got in the Cadillac again and started the engine. Duffy let her run the car well down the centre lane of the graveyard and then signalled her to stop. He closed the iron gates again.
When she got out of the car, she was holding a small flashlight. The night air was close, and Duffy hooked a finger in his collar and jerked at it. He looked round the dim place. He didn’t like it at all. She stood quite close to him, and he felt her shivering when he touched her.
Up above, the moon hung like a dead face, just visible through the mist. Duffy thought it was likely to rain any time.
“I want to find an old mausoleum,” he said. “If we can park Cattley in one of them, he ain’t likely to be turned up for some time, if ever.”
He began to walk slowly down the lane. Annabel kept close beside him. The white stones on each side of them looked ghostly. “What a spot to be in,” Duffy thought.
As they penetrated further into the burial ground it got darker. The trees overhead began to get more dense.
“Nice spot this, ain’t it?” Duffy said.
The heavy scent of graveyard flowers hung in the air. Underfoot, the cinders crunched and sounded to Duffy like firecrackers.
“I wish we could get away from here,” Annabel said nervously, “this scares me.”
“Me, I’m quaking,” Duffy said. “I guess we’re far enough off the road to chance having a little light.”