“Are you alone? Is there something the matter with the lights?”
“The lights are all right. Yes, we’re alone.”
Aire demanded, “Aren’t the servants here?”
“They’re all here, I guess. I meant our people, you know. They brought us to the bridge, so we could come up and have an hour or two of rest before dinner. They didn’t want to come in yet; so they drove on again.”
“But why didn’t you switch on the lights?” Aire queried. “With all deference to your courage, I should think you would have felt easier in your minds—”
“We didn’t dare turn on the light,” said Miss Lebetwood.
Aire and I barked astonishment.
Miss Mertoun, who had been clinging to the American girl’s arm, said, “Do go on, Paula. Tell them what we saw.”
“It’s very little after all,” said Miss Lebetwood. “We had driven down to the Wye Valley, had tea, and come back again by five-thirty, and someone suggested going north to Ludlow before returning to the House. But Millicent and I said we’d rather be excused; so one car waited on the main road while the other brought us up and dropped us at the bridge. We walked very slowly, and it wasn’t until about half an hour ago that we reached the House. It was pretty dark, you know, even then, but light from one or two kitchen windows showed in the garden; so we weren’t scared at all.”
“Ah,” remarked Aire. “You didn’t come by the drive, then?”