They pushed on, still following the road. Downhill walking was much easier and at intervals they were encouraged by a glimpse of the light.
Then, rounding a bend of the road, the girls came to an artistic, newly constructed iron fence, banked heavily with snow. The fence led to a high gate, and behind the gate loomed a dark, sprawling house with double chimneys.
“The place is deserted!” Louise observed in disappointment. “What became of the light we’ve been following?”
“It must be farther on. This house looks as if it had been closed for the winter.”
Penny went to the gate and rattled a heavy chain which held it in place. Peering through the palings, she could see an unshoveled driveway which curved gracefully to a pillared porch. The spacious grounds were dotted with evergreens and shrubs, so layered with snow that they resembled scraggly ghosts.
“Wonder who owns this place?” speculated Louise.
“Don’t know,” Penny answered, turning away. “In fact, I don’t recall ever having seen it before.”
Her words carried special significance to Louise.
“If you’ve never seen this house before, then we’re on a strange road! Penny, we never will find the listening post!”
“I’m beginning to suspect it myself,” Penny admitted grimly. “But we must keep plodding on. That light can’t be far ahead.”