Rockbotham in the car on the way to Berringer’s house was of the politest and chattiest kind, interspersed with moments of seriousness. They began by discussing the curious meteorological conditions, agreeing that such frequent repetitions of thunder without lightning or rain were very unusual. “Some kind of electrical nucleus, I suppose,” the doctor said, “though why the discharge should be audible but not visible, I don’t know.” “I noticed it when I was down on Thursday,” Anthony remarked, “and again yesterday. It seems to be louder when we get out of town; inside it’s much less.” “Deadened by the ordinary noises, I expect,” the doctor said. “Very upsetting for some of my patients—the nervous ones, you know. Even quite steady people are affected in the funniest way sometimes. Now my wife, for instance—nobody less nervous than she is, you’ll agree—yet when she came in this morning—there’s an old servant of ours she generally calls on every Sunday morning when it’s fine and she’s not busy—she had an extraordinary tale of a kind of small earthquake.”
