The Night Has Eyes Page #2

It's getting like pea-soup.

And we should never have left the road.

And that divine Scoutmaster

said it was a shortcut.

Never trust divine Scoutmasters.

Oh, it will pour in a minute.

Where do you think we are?

I don't know. I'll get the map.

This must be Pensley.

We're here by Puttock Hag.

What's a Hag?

The local name for a bog.

Doris, come back!

Help .. help!

Marian .. Marian!

Help!

Marian .. Marian.

I'm sinking.

I'll get you out.

How far are you from

the side of the road?

I'm not a yard away but ..

I can't get my feet out.

Get hold of this.

I'm slipping!

Hold tight.

Pull!

Hold tight.

My God .. I thought I was done for.

But I've lost my shoes.

It's a house.

And a man.

Come on.

We've lost our way and

we're soaked to the skin.

And hungry as hell.

We nearly got in a bog.

Can you give us shelter?

Well, make sure you'll

know us, won't you.

You'd better come in.

Nowhere else you can go.

You had better get dry.

Give me your things.

I can't tell you how thankful

we are to be in here.

What were you doing outside?

Walking.

In the storm?

I enjoy storms.

Well, it takes all sort to make a world.

I once met a man who got

fun out of swallowing swords.

I can understand that.

A sense of isolation.

Being alone in a world of wind and rain.

Being alone? Yes, I'm with you there.

That wouldn't be a help to us.

You said you were hungry.

I will get you something.

Well .. give me Boris Karloff.

Well, my feet are worn

down to the ankles.

You know, he looks the kind of fellow

who buries his wife under the fireplace.

Oh .. it was a fellow I read about.

In a book.

On second thoughts,

you'd better come and help me.

It's just as warm in the kitchen.

If you ask me we're going

to swing for our supper.

Bring those eggs and a carving knife.

There's some bread in that bin.

Oh heaven. I'm so hungry my

stomach is sticking to my back.

Oh, by the way. May I introduce

Miss Marian Ives - Mr Stephen Deremid.

How did you know my name?

It's on the packages in the pantry.

Noting much misses little Doris.

Quite the detective, eh?

Yeah. Nick Carter's grandmother.

Didn't you know.

"Stephen Deremid"? There is

something familiar about that name.

Suppose we talk about you.

There is nothing much to tell. We're just

a couple of schoolteachers on holiday.

Schoolteachers?

Don't worry. We won't

give you a lecture.

Where do you teach?

A girl's school at Oxford: Carne House.

Where? Where did you say?

Carne House. Do you know it?

Yes. I've heard the name.

What made you come to these moors?

A kind of sentimental journey.

A friend of mine died here a year ago.

She was lost in a storm,

like we were tonight.

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