He nodded.

“And there was lightning. An electric storm? Maybe that’s why the power is out. Lightning could have hit the transformer over by City Hall. Last time that happened we were in the dark for six hours.”

By way of an answer he took her hand and led her to the window. She shaded her eyes and looked across the lake. “That smoke is the defense plant,” he said. “Something must have happened there last night. It wasn’t lightning, Ev. Some kind of explosion, I think.”

“Is that why there’s no electricity?” Now her voice took on a timorous note and he felt her grip tighten on his hand.

He said, “I don’t know. Maybe. The smoke is blowing away from us, anyway. I think that’s good.”

“I don’t hear any sirens. If there’s a fire, shouldn’t there be sirens?”

“Fire company may be there already.”

“I didn’t hear any sirens during the night. The fire hall’s just down on Armory. It always wakes me up when they run the sirens at night. Did you hear anything?”

He admitted he hadn’t.

“Dex, it’s way too quiet. It’s a little scary.”

He said, “Let’s do something about breakfast. Maybe we can run that little battery radio in the kitchen, find out what’s going on.” It seemed as if she weighed the suggestion and found it weak but adequate. “Everybody needs to eat, I guess. All right. Let me finish dressing.”

∞

It was the off-season, of course, and with Mrs. Friedel gone, Howard Poole was the sole remaining guest—and Howard hadn’t come down to breakfast.

The stove was electric. Evelyn rummaged in the warming refrigerator. “I think we’re reduced to cereal,” she said. “Until the milk spoils, anyway.”