Two.
They stood at the attic entrance. Mrs. Hemlock paused. “This is silly. Miss Thorn and I both saw a woman earlier. So why am I frightened?”
Three.
“Come now, Mrs. Hemlock,” Mr. Fairbanks said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s probably one of the servants dressing up to play a little party trick on you.”
Four.
Mrs. Hemlock shot him a wan smile. “I hope so. All the same, I’m a bit nervous.” She hugged her shoulders. “Do we have to go in?”
Five.
“I’m scared too,” Violet said.”
Six.
“The woman wanted us to come up here. But why? She’s already dead. Why would she want us to come up here?” Mr. Ludlow asked. “What did old Uncle Edwin say? That she was to be a harbinger of doom, of some sort. How did the legend go?”
Seven.
Violet gripped the wooden banister as she took the creaky stairs up. “She’s said to be forecasting doom. And she wanted us to come here. Why, I don’t know. But I think… I think we should go in.”
Eight.
“Where could Miss Eagle be? And old Mr. Griffin? Why aren’t the servants around?” Mr. Fairbanks asked.
Nine.
Mr. Ludlow said, “Blast it, I know where they are. They’re still downstairs playing cards. I should fetch them.”
Ten.
Mr. Ludlow held a candle in its pewter candlestick holder, but his hand was trembling. He was afraid. He held it out to Miss Violet. “Here, you take it.”
Eleven.
“Enough of this. Tackle the ghost directly,” Mr. Fairbanks said. “Come on, Mr. Ludlow. We are known for our English fortitude. Bear up, man. Bear up.”
Miss Violet stood before the door leading to the attic and looked at the others standing beside her. “I’m going in.”
Twelve.
Violet turned the doorknob and opened the door. A chill wind blew all of the group’s candles out. She gasped.
“What? What is it? Do you see the ghost?” Mrs. Hemlock asked.
There, silhouetted against the bold moon, shining bright as day against the windows, stood a dark womanly figure swathed in black veils. The woman threw her head back and screamed. Mrs. Hemlock fainted.
Violet dropped her candle and went forward. “Uncle!”
There on the floor lay Violet’s uncle, dead as a doornail.
Chapter Seven
“Uncle!” Violet gasped.She dashed to his side and touched his shoulder. “Uncle.”
“Here, get back, Miss Thorn. Let me see to him,” Mr. Fairbanks said.
