It was late, when the pair arrived back at Nathan's house. Monica turned as the Erl and her husband entered the door. "Come on!" said the Erl. "You can't tell me you're not suspicious!"
"I can tell you anything I please," replied Nathan.
"Yes, but you can't mean..." Sacripant saw Monica standing there, and gave an awkward cough. "Umm... sorry if we were making too much noise..."
"I was already up," said Monica, folding the linen. "How was the night, Nathan?"
"Ugly," muttered Nathan, sitting down before the fire. "A man leapt from the Tower."
"With his skull already bashed in," said Sacripant.
"Sir Fenswater," began Nathan, his voice testy.
"Just call me Sacripant," said the Erl. "No need to be formal. Anyway, I'm no 'sir'."
"Sacripant, do not talk about that sort of thing in fron tof my wife," finished the Lamplighter.
"Sorry," muttered Sacripant, turning away. "I just find it all... suspicious."
Nathan sighed. "If you want, we can go check with the Sextons tomorrow. If it would ease your mind."
"Think it would," said the Erl. He looked at the pair for a moment, then coughed. "Well... good night. See you tomorrow." He gave an awkward wave, and then headed to his room.
Monica watched him go, and then turned to her husband. "What was that about?"
"I think he doesn't want to crowd us," said Nathan. "And... oh, whatever they've sent him here on, it isn't going well."
Monica nodded, and folded another bit of linen. "He's a rather pleasant sort. For a Nightfolk, I mean."
"Obviously," said Nathan. "But yes. Yes, he is."