In her heart Lexy agreed with him. She had no curiosity left, and scarcely any interest. As he had said, it was finished. She wanted to rest, not to speak, not to think, not to remember; but it couldn’t be so. They would both have to tell what they had seen, to answer questions. It wasn’t enough that two people lay dead in that house of horror. All the world, which knew and cared nothing about them, must have a full explanation. “I suppose we couldn’t wait till morning?” she suggested. He took her hand and drew it through his arm. “You’re worn out,” he told her. “It’s altogether wrong. There’s no reason why you should be troubled any more, Lexy. Slip into the house quietly, and get to bed and to sleep. Nobody need know that you went there.” “No!” she said. “We’ll see it through together.” The thought of Charles Houseman came to her, but she disowned it with a listless sort of resentment. She felt, somehow, that he had failed her. He had not been there when she needed him. He had not taken his part in this ghastly and unforgettable sight. There was a light in Mrs. Royce’s front parlor. Perhaps he was in there, waiting for her, cheerful and cool, a thousand miles away from the nightmare world in which she had been moving. She did not want to see him or speak to him just now. He hadn’t seen. He wouldn’t understand. Captain Grey opened the gate, and they went up the flagged walk. Before they had mounted the veranda steps, the front door was flung wide, and Mrs. Royce appeared. “Oh, my goodness!” she cried. “I thought you’d never come!” Her tone and her manner were so strange that they both stopped and stared at her. “Oh, my goodness!” she cried again. “Oh, _do_ come in! I don’t know what to do with her, I’m sure!” “Who?” asked Lexy. “Poor Mis’ Quelton. There she is, lyin’ upstairs—” “Mrs. _Quelton_?” “Joe, he brought her in his taxi, jest a little while after you’d gone.” “Brought Mrs. Quelton here?” “Brought her here and carried her up them very stairs,” declared Mrs. Royce impressively; “right up into the east bedroom, and there she lies!” She stood aside, and Lexy and Captain Grey entered the house. The young man turned aside into the parlor, sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. Lexy stood beside him, looking down at his bent head, her face haggard and white. “Why did Joe do that?” she asked. “Don’t ask _me_, Miss Moran!” replied Mrs. Royce. “It beats me!” There was a silence. “But ain’t you going upstairs to see what she wants?” inquired Mrs. Royce anxiously. Captain Grey sprang to his feet. “Good God!” he shouted. “What are you talking about?” Mrs. Royce backed into a corner, regarding him with alarm. “I jest thought you’d like to talk to her,” she faltered. “Do you mean she’s _not dead_?” “Dead? Oh, my goodness gracious me!” cried Mrs. Royce. “I never—” “Wait here,” Lexy told the captain. “No!” he replied. “I must—” But, disregarding him, Lexy turned to Mrs. Royce.