Tony Walker

I explored the bungalow and just had a look outside.

It was of course very dark, but not snowing quite so hard.

The garage stood about fifteen yards from the back door.

I walked round it, but didn't go in.

I also went down to the edge of the broad and verified the boathouse.

The whole place looked as though it might be all right in the summer time.

But just then it made one wonder why people ever wanted to go to the North Pole.

Anyhow, I went indoors and settled down by the fire.

You've no idea how quiet it was.

Even the waterfowl had taken the night off.

At least they weren't working.

A few minutes to eleven I heard the first noise that had been since Mrs. What's-her-name-a-Selston had cleared out.

It was the sound of a car.

If it had gone straight by, I probably shouldn't have noticed it at all.

Only it did go straight by.

It seemed to stop farther up the road before it got to the house.

Even that didn't make much impression.

After all, cars do stop.

It must have been five or ten minutes before it was borne in on me that it hadn't gone on again.

So I got up and looked out of the window.