“Why!” he exclaimed weakly, “here’s the valley.”
He pushed Buckley toward the door, and there was an answering stir within ... voices.
XXIV
An overwhelming desire possessed Gordon Makimmon to go home. He forgot the pressing necessity for assistance, the searing hurt within ... he must go home. He stumbled forward, turning into an aside that led directly behind Dr. Pelliter’s drug store to the road above the Makimmon dwelling. He moved blindly, instinctively, following the way bitten beneath his consciousness by a lifetime of usage.
The house was dark, but it was hardly darker than Gordon’s brain. He climbed the steps to the porch; his hands fumbled among the keys in his pocket.
Feet tramped across the creaking boards, approaching him; a palm fell upon his shoulder; a crisp voice rang out uncomprehended at his ear. It said:
“I’d knocked on all the doors, and was just going. I wanted to see you at once—”
Gordon felt over the door in search of the place for the key.