With the lamp in his hand he was compelled to descend cautiously, and when he reached the foot of the staircase the girl had left the house. He extinguished the lamp he was carrying, relit the lantern, and stepped outside. The lantern showed him the girl waiting for him some distance down the path.
“Oh, let us leave this dreadful house,” she cried as he approached. “Please take me out of it. I am not frightened of the storm—now.”
“I will take you wherever you wish to go,” he said gently. “Will you tell me where you live? I will accompany you home.”
“You are very good,” she said gratefully. “I live at Ashlingsea.”
“That is the little fishing village at the end of the cliff road, is it not?” he said inquiringly. “I am staying at Staveley, but I have not been there long. Come, I will take you home, and then I will inform the police about—this tragic discovery.”
“There is a police station at Ashlingsea,” she said, in a low voice.
He explained to her that he wanted to look after the comfort of his horse before he accompanied her home, as it would be necessary to leave the animal at the farm until the following day. She murmured a faint acquiescence, and when they reached the storehouse she took the lantern from him without speaking, and held it up to give him light while he made his horse comfortable for the night.
They then set out for Ashlingsea. The violence of the storm had passed, but the wind occasionally blew in great gusts from the sea, compelling them to halt in order to stand up against it. The night was still very black, but at intervals a late moon managed to send a watery beam through the scudding storm clouds, revealing the pathway of the winding cliff road, and the turbulent frothing waste of water dashing on the rocks below. Rain continued to fall in heavy frequent showers, but the minds of Marsland and his companion were so occupied with what they had seen in the old farm-house that they were scarcely conscious of the discomfort of getting wet.
The girl was so unnerved by the discovery of the dead body that she was glad to avail herself of the protection and support of Marsland’s arm. Several times as she thought she saw a human form in the darkness of the road, she uttered a cry of alarm and clung to his arm with both hands. At every step she expected to encounter a maniac who had the blood of one human creature on his hands and was still swayed by the impulse to kill.
The reserve she had exhibited in the house had broken down, and she talked freely in her desire to shut out from her mental vision the spectacle of the murdered man sitting in the arm-chair.