“There it is again!” exclaimed Agnes.
Once more the clicking sounded.
“I’ll ask Central what it is,” volunteered Neale.
He started toward the instrument, but at that moment there came almost as terrific a crash of thunder as the one that opened the storm.
“Neale!” screamed Agnes. “Keep away from that telephone!”
“There’s no danger,” he asserted, his voice sounding strangely loud in the quiet that succeeded the booming of the thunder.
Then, again the lights went dim—so low as almost to go out—and there came a gasp of fear even from Ruth.
“Do you suppose the house was struck?” she asked in a whisper of Luke.
“Nonsense! If it had been we’d all know it. Lightning isn’t that gentle when it strikes.”
At that moment a clock somewhere in the Corner House softly gave the hour of midnight. And almost as if it had been timed for that weird and spookish hour there came, from the cellar, seemingly, a strange sound—a sound of a heavy fall, followed by a moan.