She was exceedingly angry and
agitated. But she could not impart her feelings to the suffering Denry.
He moaned on a bed for about half-an-hour, and then fell asleep. And in
the middle of the night, in the dark, strange house, she also fell
asleep.
VI
The next morning she arose and went forth, and in about half-an-hour
returned. Denry was still in bed, but his health seemed to have resumed
its normal excellence. Mrs Machin burst upon him in such a state of
complicated excitement as he had never before seen her in.
"Denry," she cried, "what do you think?"
"What?" said he.
"I've just been down home, and they're--they're pulling the house down.
All the furniture's out, and they've got all the tiles off the roof, and
the windows out. And there's a regular crowd watching."
Denry sat up.
"And I can tell you another piece of news," said he. "Mr Cecil Wilbraham
is dead."
"Dead!" she breathed.
"Yes," said Denry. "_I think he's served his purpose._ As we're
here, we'll stop here. Don't forget it's the most sensible kind of a
house you've ever seen. Don't forget that Mrs Cotterill could run it
without a servant and have herself tidy by ten o'clock in a morning.
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