“I know it because I could see it at night from my bed-room window. I slept over the kitchen, in that wing, and I could see the tower. Oh, Linda, I’m afraid! We’re here all alone!”
“Don’t, don’t, dear!” pleaded Linda. “But we’ll go back to the autogiro unless you want to go around front. There can’t be anybody at home now——”
She stopped suddenly, for she heard a queer noise inside, as if someone were moving about.
“Do you hear that?” whispered Amy, as if she were afraid to speak aloud.
“Yes. Let’s go see if we can get in!”
Amy held back, but Linda went over to the nearest window and peered in. She saw only a dreary room, with dark, ugly furniture—a room which looked as if no one had recently lived in it.
“That wasn’t anybody real, Linda,” protested Amy. “It was the ghost. It often made queer noises at night. Oh, please let’s get away before anything happens!”
“All right. But I would love to investigate. I’m going to make Dot come over with me on Monday, if we have to climb in a window. I don’t believe in ghosts, Amy!”
“Oh, you mustn’t do that, Linda! The house is evil—I know now that I’m lucky never to have to go back to it. I don’t ever want to see it again!”
Anxious to get the girl away from her morbid thoughts, Linda challenged her to a race back to the autogiro, and they reached it together in a couple of minutes.