The Woman in Black Page #6

Will you agree, Margaret?

My territorial ambitions

are singularly pointless?

If you'll excuse me, Mr Kidd.

I enjoyed meeting you so much.

Good night, Mrs Toovey.

Well.

Let's talk. In there.

But the worst part, the hardest

to take, that is was the noises.

The pony and trap in the

marsh, and the screaming.

Right, now, I'll be devil's advocate.

Suppose I suggest a perfectly

commonplace explanation.

You can try.

- There were dense patches of sea fog.

- Yes.

Now, those can distort sounds.

Blanket some off and let

others through.

Suppose what you heard was Keckwick's

trap on the far end of the causeway,

on his way back.

- But the screams?

- Sea birds.

- No.

- Ah, you're a townie.

You don't know what a gull

can sound like.

They can make cries you'd

swear came from, say, a cat

or a baby.

I wish I could believe that.

- Do you believe in ghosts?

- Never have.

- Why not?

- They were just stories.

- Made up?

- Yes.

So, you're a sceptic.

Well, I was until today.

She was quite real, I felt I could have

walked up to her and touched her.

- Did she see you?

- Eh?

See you. Did she?

Like I am seeing you now.

Yes. I'm sure.

It was her eyes.

She wasn't just looking,

she was hating.

You could tell?

It was somehow like hunger.

Kind of

dreadful mad hunger that

has all turned to hate.

- Against you?

- It felt like that.

There was a

sort of power coming from her.

And that's why you ran.

You were scared.

She neither spoke nor came

near me.

If she was able to make me

afraid, well, that was all.

- I'm going back.

- To London?

- No, to the house.

- You shouldn't go there.

Mr Toovey, I've been entrusted

with a job, and I've hardly begun it.

You shouldn't go there alone.

- I can find no one to go with me.

- No. Nobody will.

You're a brave young fella,

and no doubt of it.

But after what you've told me tonight,

you're not brave enough.

Nobody could be.

Well, if that old woman could

stand it all those years

Or perhaps she went out of her mind.

I'll find out, I want to hear

her voice on the machine.

Don't do it, Arthur.

Thank you for a splendid meal,

Mr Toovey,

it's helped me no end,

and now I must say good night.

- You're set on it then.

- I am.

Out there, on your own?

If if I see her again, I won't

be afraid, I promise you.

Take the dog.

I'm sorry?

You'll need a companion.

But would he come?

Ask him.

Would you come, Spider?

A bike? Uh, I reckon so.

Well, he can have a lend

of it, can't he, Albert?

Thank you.

And I can take some provisions,

enough for a couple of days.

- Bread and a few tins.

- Well, fair enough.

So, you will not be needing

the room again?

No.

You'll stay there?

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