“No phone,” said Keith without turning, “and you saw the condition of the road for yourself. You’d never get a car through those drifts.”
“If you had a car,” chuckled Dr. Reinach. Then he seemed to remember the disappearing house, and his chuckle died.
“What do you mean?” demanded Ellery. “In the garage are—”
“Two useless products of the machine age. Both cars are out of fuel.”
“And mine,” said old Thorne suddenly, with a resurrection of grim personal interest, “mine has something wrong with it besides. I left my chauffeur in the city, you know, Queen, when I drove down last time. Now I can’t get the engine running on the little gasoline that’s left in the tank.”
Ellery’s fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. “Bother! Now we can’t even call on other eyes to test whether we’ve been bewitched or not. By the way, Doctor, how far is the nearest community? I’m afraid I didn’t pay attention on the drive down.”
“Over fifteen miles by road. If you’re thinking of footing it, Mr. Queen, you’re welcome to the thought.”
“You’d never get through the drifts,” muttered Keith. The drifts appeared to trouble him.
“And so we find ourselves snowbound,” said Ellery, “in the middle of the fourth dimension — or perhaps it’s the fifth. A pretty kettle! Ah there, Keith, that feels considerably better.”
“You don’t seem bowled over by what’s happened,” said Dr. Reinach, eying him curiously. “I’ll confess it’s given even me a shock.”