[Vox]

The American didn't know where to start. It was clear no one was alarmed about whatever was upstairs. Either they were all unbelievably good actors, or they genuinely believed nothing was happening. He still wanted to rush up to the tower, but insiduous thoughts came. You did your best. You delivered a warning and now it's on their heads. It's not your business. You're just traveling through. Besides, maybe it was a reflection from the trees.

But there were no trees high enough to reflect into that window, he insisted in his head.

Clouds, then. Or maybe the maid is lying and she was up there, cleaning. You imagined everything else.

Hardly, he retorted. As an industrial design student, he was trained to be observant. All artists were. It was their job to observe, design, interpret.

And what was going on here? They really did think he was homeless, offering him a place to stay. It was ridiculous. This was civilized England, not the mountains of Afghanistan. Two hundred years ago, it would have made sense to shelter a traveler, but now the roads were bandit-free, and reliable trains and taxis were everywhere.

He was about to refuse their invitation, when it occurred to him that an evening in a mansion was a bit of unexpected adventure to cap off his UK trip. Plus, the old lady had actually called the other guy "Lord," which amused him. And the cute girl had appeared out of nowhere to turn the situation around. This was turning out to be a sitcom.

What decided him was something he was barely conscious of: the lack of coherence in the group. Individuals with strong bonds would close ranks against an outsider, even if they normally fought amongst themselves. But Travis wasn't sensing this from the people in front of him. There was no conspiracy here, no creepy clan waiting for a victim. The lord was almost as disconnected as he was, and seemed friendly enough.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd be very appreciative to spend the night. I have a train to catch tomorrow." He did not miss the look of relief crossing Mrs. Luyens' face.