They got lost twice, retracing, cursing themselves for having to rely on map and memory, because Hez and Theo had not made it to the juncture, were they all right?, and still there was this clock ticking, and its voice saying, so far so fast, it will go so far, not go so far, go so far, in his head, and everything beginning to wind down as the rhythm of the horses slowed at the limits of their endurance. They had been held up for good cause at the Brook House, piling families into makeshift transports, and some into the woods for temporary hiding holes, and reluctantly Tom left Gerald there, with a promise to come within an hour or two at most. And Tom sped on in the late night as the rain came on, and the bright image in his mind said, it is all right, there is time, this cannot go on, these are isolated incidents, you have but to come into the homestead, deliver the message, and see to the defences, she is smart, she will be clear about what has to be done; and then the dark image eclipsed the bright, and said, it is too late, they all rose together, it will be a fight, or worse, it will be too late, and his mind would not go any further, blocking the possibilites.

About ten miles away from the farm, dawn came, which dawn was it, he could not say, and the rain poured down, and he saw the low rain clouds ahead, and the soothing image came into his mind through his exhausted brain, it is dawn, it is allright, the rain, it is spring, everything needs rain, and the green is coming, and then he looked closer and they were not just lowering rain clouds ahead but smudges of gray smoke, curling, and the dark image flooded over him, that it was all too late, and he fought down the shaking.

The smell came through the dawn woods towards him, envelopping him as he rode the last mile, and his stomach turned over, and he saw the black charcoal beams and the coils of smoke through the budding woods, and then broke out into the open.

Oh, he thought crazily, Oh, I know this place. That was where the barn was, that was where the house was, all those animals lying there came out of there, I stood over there once, and there was a porch --

And then the full horror hit him, and he flung himself off his horse in panic and ran to the ruins of the porch. He saw the door frame, all hanging bent, skewed, and he stepped through and in a dream saw everything black and gray and brown, smashed, burnt. Oh, he thought, in his craziness, that is what was behind that curtain, all that time, all that terrible time, waiting. Death was behind that curtain, and that little fire was his dark lamp, the lamp that extinguishes the light of the world.

But where was Mrs,. Miller, where was anyone? He tottered back over the debris, and into the barnyard littered with burnt animals, and it came into his mind that she must be dead, she would not leave such a place, she was not that kind of woman, she would bury her dead, she would bury the living who did this. He headed to the barn, desperation heaving timbers aside, and shouldering past remnant walls, and he found himself over a cellar that had fallen in, and he looked down, and for the rest of his life wished that he had not looked down.

He stumbled out into the yard, and was sick.

After a time, he raised his head again, and thought, no, this is Hell. Welcome to Hell, Tom. And then he thought: perhaps. Perhaps she is on the run, or they have taken her. Whoever they are. Maybe they are near. Maybe. No one had shot at him so far, it was as if he were at the world's end, it was so quiet apart from the cracking of wood, no, you fool, not at the world's end, Hell, remember. Oh, yes. Maybe she has another bolt hole, out in the woods, another secret place like that cellar -- and he bent over and was sick again.

He stood up shakily, and went over to his horse, and pulled the rifle out. He had nothing to lose.

He walked around to the side of the fallen house, ashen puddles everywhere, splittering with the endless rain. And then off to one side, he saw the mounds, the fresh wet earth, the discarded shovel, what must be temporary graves, no markers, no crosses, nothing, one small one. A child? Someone did this: someone was in a hurry: mother? servant? with no time to deal with what was in the barn, or the animals. Not someone trying to cover up. Someone who was there, who would know. He moved further into the field behind the house, his rifle at the ready. When in hell, do as the devils do. He began to shout: "Hello?? Mrs. Miller!! Anyone??"