As he tried another spot, again thunder beat the long roll on its
iron drum outside, in the night. The lights blinked--wavered--
recovered.
"The lights are going out again," said Dale dully, her excitement
sunk into a stupefied calm.
"Let them go! The less light the better for me. The only thing to
do is to go over this house room by room." He pointed to the billiard
room door. "What's in there?"
"The billiard room." She was thinking hard. "Jack! Perhaps
Courtleigh Fleming's nephew would know where the blue-prints are!"
He looked dubious. "It's a chance, but not a very good one," he
said. "Well--" He led the way into the billiard room and began
to rap at random upon its walls while Dale listened intently for
any echo that might betray the presence of a hidden chamber or
sliding panel.
Thus it happened that Lizzie received the first real thrill of what
was to prove to her--and to others--a sensational and hideous
night. For, coming into the living-room to lay a cloth for Mr.
Anderson's night suppers not only did the lights blink threateningly
and the thunder roll, but a series of spirit raps was certainly to
be heard coming from the region of the billiard room.
"Oh, my God!" she wailed, and the next instant the lights went out,
leaving her in inky darkness. With a loud shriek she bolted out
of the room.
Thunder--lightning--dashing of rain on the streaming glass of
the windows--the storm hallooing its hounds.
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