"Oh, there you are," he said.

Dunn did not answer. He stood moodily on the threshold, wondering
why he did not rush upon the other, and with his knee upon his chest,
his hands about his throat, force him to answer the question that
was still whispering, shouting, screaming itself into his ears:

"Does she know what it is she drives with her on that big car through
the black and lonely night?"

"Like a drink?" asked Deede Dawson.

Dunn shook his head, and it came to him that he did not attack Deede
Dawson and force the truth from him because he dared not, because he
was afraid, because he feared what the answer might be.

"There's a tool-shed at the bottom of the garden," Deede Dawson said
to him. "You can sleep there, tonight. You'll find some sacks you
can make a bed of."

Without a word in reply Dunn turned and stumbled away. He felt very
tired--physically exhausted--and the idea of a bed, even of sacks
in an outhouse, became all at once extraordinarily attractive.

He found the place without difficulty, and, making a pile of the
sacks, flung himself down on them and was asleep almost at once.
But almost as promptly he awoke again, for he had dreamed of Ella
driving her car through the night towards some strange peril from
which in his dream he was trying frantically and ineffectively to
save her when he awoke.