re ever to see it again."
It was a relief when the forest thinned and fields stretched, flat and
pleasant, like barriers against the stunted growth. Bobby stopped the car
in front of one of a group of houses at a crossroads. He climbed the
steps and rang. Doctor Groom opened the door himself. His gigantic, hairy
figure was silhouetted against the light from within.
"What's the matter now?" he demanded in his gruff voice. "Fortunately I
hadn't gone to bed. I was reading some books on psychic manifestations.
Who's sick? Or--"
Bobby's face must have told him a good deal, for he broke off.
"Get your things on," Bobby said, "and I will tell you as we drive
back, for you must come. Howells has been killed precisely as my
grandfather was."
For a moment Doctor Groom's bulky frame remained motionless in the
doorway. Instead of the surprise and horror Bobby had foreseen, the old
man expressed only a mute wonder. He got his hat and coat and entered the
runabout, Paredes made room for him, sitting on the floor, his feet on
the running board.
Bobby had told all he knew before they had reached the forest. The doctor
grunted then:
"The wound at the back of the head was the same as in your
grandfather's case?"
"Exactly."
"Then what good am I? Why am I routed out?"
"A formality," Bobby answered. "Katherine thought if we got you quickly
you might do something. Anyway, she wanted your advice."
The woods closed about them. Again the lights seemed to push back a
palpable barrier.
"I can't work miracles," the doctor was murmuring. "I can't bring men
back to life. Such a wound leaves no ground for hope. You'd better have
sent for the police at once. Hello!"
He strained forward, peering around the windshield.
"Funny!" Paredes called.
Bobby's eyes were on the road.
"What do you see?"
"The house, Bobby!" Paredes cried.
"No one, to my certain knowledge," the doctor said, "has lived in that
house for ten years. You say it was empty and falling to pieces when you
woke up there this morning."
Bobby knew what they meant then, and he reduced the speed of the car and
looked ahead to the right. A pallid glow sifted through the trees from
the direction of the deserted house.
Bobby guided the car to the side of the road, stopped it, and shut off
the engine. At first no one moved. The three men stared as if in the
presence of an unaccountable phenomenon. Even when Bobby had
extinguished the headlights the glo
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