They climbed the hill. The unlighted house, like a thing dead itself and surrendered to decay, arose before them forbiddingly.
"Jones was right," Nora said. "It's spooky."
Garth crossed the verandah on tip-toe and silently opened the door.
"No lights," he breathed.
Nora shivered.
"It's as cold and damp here as the stone house. Can you find your way?"
"Yes. Sh-h."
He led her across the hall, up the staircase, and down the corridor to the dressing-room. The window had been closed in there, and there was no escape for a humid and depressing chill which enveloped them with discomfort.
He found the easy chair and told Nora to sit down. He drew another one close.
"But why not lights, Jim?"