“I don’t know.” Ellery got to his feet, frowning. “I don’t know anything. I’m beginning to learn all over again. Maybe — maybe it’s a matter of gravitation. Maybe we’ll all fly into space any minute now.”
Thorne groaned: “My God.”
“All I can be sure of is that something very strange happened last night.”
“I tell you,” growled Keith, “it’s an optical illusion!”
“Something strange.” The fat man stirred. “Yes, decidedly. What an inadequate word! A house has disappeared. Something strange.” He began to chuckle in a choking, mirthless way.
“Oh that,” said Ellery impatiently. “Certainly. Certainly, Doctor. That’s a fact. As for you, Keith, you don’t really believe this mass-hypnosis bilge. The house is gone, right enough... It’s not the fact of its being gone that bothers me. It’s the agency, the means. It smacks of— of—” He shook his head. “I’ve never believed in... this sort of thing, damn it all!”
Dr. Reinach threw back his vast shoulders and glared, red-eyed, at the empty snow-covered space. “It’s a trick,” he bellowed. “A rotten trick, that’s what it is. That house is right there in front of our noses. Or— or— They can’t fool me!”
Ellery looked at him. “Perhaps,” he said, “Keith has it in his pocket?”
Alice clattered out on the porch in high-heeled shoes over bare feet, her hair streaming, a cloth coat flung over her night-clothes. Behind her crept little Mrs. Reinach. The women’s eyes were wild.
“Talk to them,” muttered Ellery to Thorne. “Anything; but keep their minds occupied. We’ll all go balmy if we don’t preserve at least an air of sanity. Keith, get me a broom.”