TONIGHT, a car was climbing the old road. From the confident way it nosed
along, the car obviously belonged to Dr. Torrance. As it veered into the
gateway, its sudden stop was not due to any fright on the physician's part.
True, Torrance had sighted a figure on the driveway ahead, but he knew it wasn't
any ghost.
It was only Wiggam, the faithful caretaker, paying his evening visit to the
family that he still served, though he was no longer on the Stanbridge payroll.
Though it wasn't far up to the house, Wiggam accepted Torrance's invitation
to ride with him. They sat together in the car, two gray haired men whose
resemblance ended with that feature. Torrance was rugged, his eyes showing
sharply through their glasses, a man whose vitality belied his years. Wiggam on
the contrary looked tired, his face consisting chiefly of droops. Not worry, but
disappointment had aged the old retainer, a thing which Torrance knew.
"How are things at the manor, Wiggam?" Torrance put the query in a cheery
tone. "Has Roger brightened the family since he returned?"
"He should have, sir," replied Wiggam, seriously, "but I'm afraid the
ghosts have been too much for him."
"Those ghosts!" Torrance gave a snort as he swung around the final turn in
the driveway. "They're all right for Gustave and Jennifer who have lived here
too long for their own good. But they shouldn't bother Roger."
"I'm afraid they do, sir -"
"I know. Roger said so himself. That's why I promised to drop in this
evening. I simply want to assure him that strange things do not happen around
Stanbridge Manor."
As Torrance spoke, a strange thing did occur. Under the shelter of the
porte-cochere, the doctor was turning off the headlights. From the blackness
past the wing of Stanbridge Manor, those lights blinked back, first one and then
the other, like shining eyes from the night.
Noting the phenomenon, Wiggam clutched the physician's arm and whispered
hoarsely:
"Those glimmers, sir! Did you see them?"
"Nothing but reflections," scoffed Torrance. "My eyes are sharper than
yours, Wiggam. Come, come, man! You are more nervous than Roger was, when he
called at my office this afternoon!"
Dim was the glow from the deep windows of the mansion as Torrance and
Wiggam ascended the front steps. Giving a loud knock, Torrance opened the door
without ceremony and stepped into the house, with Wiggam close behind him. They
came directly into a great hall that served as a living room. Leading from the
hall were arched doorways into other rooms and passages, while at the right, a
large staircase curved its way up to the second floor.
THREE people were seated at the large fireplace situated on the left. One
was Gustave Stanbridge, present owner of the decadent manor, a man whose once
florid face had lost all color and whose hair had thinned to slender streaks.
Opposite Gustave was his sister Jennifer, whose high-bridge nose and wide
eyes marked her as a Stanbridge. She was older than Gustave, who was not past
middle age, yet the woman looked younger than her brother. Not only did her face
still show its color; her eyes were alive, whereas the man's were as dull as
those of a death mask.
