But he also was most content—with everything except Atkinson.
Mrs. Atkinson teetered on the edge of her chair, as though she might at any moment go flying across the room in a crazy gyration. There was something about her eyes, Loveral noticed, while he peacefully nodded in the chair. Fear, perhaps.
If so, he probably had been right. He tightened himself, listening. There it was again. The sound. Just as he had heard it a day before when he had passed near the house. He leaned forward quickly.
Mrs. Atkinson jumped.
Loveral smiled. "Didn't I hear a noise of some sort, my dear?"
"Noise?" the woman said, as though her own voice were the sound of an echo.
"An odd noise," Loveral said, his eyes searching.
The woman's hands fluttered about her dress.
Loveral stood up. "Would you mind if I just glanced about, my dear?"
The woman didn't answer, but Loveral was already moving across the room toward a door. He opened it and walked down a hall. The noise grew stronger. He threw open another door.