“But please do come in.” Her tone changed. “You came about Father’s books? How generous of you. Poor Father! His head is so full of things! He is always forgetting.”
Johnny stepped inside. The door closed itself noiselessly.
“What kind of a house of magic is this?” he asked himself. “Doors close themselves. Eyes gleam at you from the wall. You see your own skeleton in the dark!”
The room he had entered seemed ordinary enough—plain furniture, a davenport, chairs, a table. But the light! He stared about him. The room was filled with mellow light, yet there was not a single lamp to be seen.
“Comes from everywhere and nowhere, that light,” he whispered to himself.
“Let me take your hat.” The girl held out her hand. She seemed a nice sort of girl, rather boyish. When she walked it was with a long stride, as if she were wearing knickers on a hike.
“I—I’ll call Father.” She marched across the floor.
Johnny started from his chair, then settled back. Had he caught the gleam of an eye blinking from the wall? He thought so. But now it had vanished.
The girl was still three paces from the door at the back of the room when, with a silence that was startling, that door swung open.
Johnny looked closely. The hall beyond was lighted. There was no one to be seen.