"And people," said Jill. "I look terrible!"
He regarded her with approval.
"No. You look all right. You look fine!"
It was pleasing that he seemed to mean it. But immediately she said, "Maybe we'll be able to find out about ... about...."
"Vale," agreed Lockley. "But don't be disappointed if we don't. He could have escaped or been freed without everybody knowing it."
She said in surprise, "Been freed! That's something I didn't think of. He'd set to work to make them understand that we humans are intelligent and they ought to make friends with us. That would be the first thing he'd think of. And they might set him free to arrange it."
Lockley said, "Yes," in a carefully noncommittal tone.
Another mile, this time on the hard road. It seemed strange to walk on so unyielding a surface after so many miles on quite different kinds of footing. It was almost sunset now. There was a farmhouse set well back from the road and barely discernable beyond nearby growing corn. The house seemed dead. It was neat enough and in good repair. There were clackings of chickens from somewhere behind it. But it had the feel of emptiness.
Lockley called. He called again. He went to the door and would have called once more, but the door opened at a touch.
"Evacuated," he said. "Did you notice that there was a telephone line leading here from the road?"