“You have more nerve than I,” Rosanna declared admiringly.
Penny carefully locked the outside door before turning out the light. It was twenty minutes after twelve by her wrist watch.
“I shouldn’t call it nerve exactly,” she replied thoughtfully, climbing into bed. “The truth is, I’m a little afraid, Rosanna.”
“Then why do you go up there again?”
“Oh, I don’t mean that. It isn’t the music that has me frightened.”
“But what else is there to be afraid of?” Rosanna persisted.
“It’s just a feeling, I guess,” Penny admitted. “I can’t explain—only it seems to me that some sinister plot is brewing in this old house.”
“I have the same sensation,” Rosanna confessed. “Let’s leave in the morning.”
Penny laughed softly and settled herself more comfortably in the pillows.
“Never!” she retorted. “I’m the daughter of a detective you know! This is our own special mystery case, and unless that ghost gets me first, I intend to get him!”