“We’re going to the smithy. There’s something I noticed during the accident and I think it’s important.”
Accident? You’re not sure you’re up to date on that, but you follow him, carrying the old woman.
He stops right outside.
“The light’s on inside,” he says. “That makes things more awkward. The smith will be none too pleased to see me.”
“Well, then why don’t you wake up the old woman’s family?” you ask.
“That’s another thing. She’s the smith’s mother. I thought we’d drop her off at the house, but if the smith’s at work…”
Something strikes you.
“Do we know it’s the smith in there?” you ask. “Can’t see inside too well.”
“Why would anyone else turn the lights on?”
“So we think it’s the smith because no thief would bother to turn the lights on,” you point out.
“But the smith’s house is right across the road. If she’s not working late, she’d be there and could see it. Any thief trying to be clever would realize that.”
You suppose he’s got a point there. But now that the idea’s in your head, something about the scene strikes you as odd if it really is the smith inside.
The door is unhinged.