1 A Spirited Manor by Kate Danley Page B

went
home.  The storm was so terrible, perhaps someone used that as an excuse to
stay.  Perhaps they hid themselves here to take revenge upon me for... I don't
know what!  You never know with the help!  They get the strangest notions in
their head and soon, there is no reasoning with them!  One day, they are asking
for a raise in wages, the next they are luring young women out of their beds to
murder them!"
    "I was not murdered,"
Clara pointed out.
    "A mere technicality!"
    "It would make sense,"
Violet squeaked.  "Someone here might bear a grudge against my mother. 
And it would make sense also to destroy the one man with the sense to decipher
the clues scientifically.  The one man who could figure it all out!"
    "I could figure it out,"
said Clifford.
    No one made a response in
support and his statement hung awkwardly in the air.
    Horace broke the silence by striding
off, calling behind him.  "Follow me!"
    They all trooped along behind
him, up the stairs, and towards the foyer.  As they marched, Horace pulled a
gun off of the wall in the hallway.  He cocked it and said, "Loaded.  Just
like I left it.  Come along then!  Into the dining room!"
    As soon as they were all inside,
he locked the door and set about rallying their spirits.  "See here, we
are all in danger then.  But never you fear!  I shall protect us all.  We shall
remain hidden in this room until the storm breaks and we can go for help. 
There is strength in numbers and obviously, it is not safe for us to sleep
alone.  We shall all take turns keeping watch, except for the women of course. 
Delicate creatures and all."
    "Seems to me they could
keep watch the same as any man," said Clifford.
    "Quiet, boy.  The women are
free to do what they see fit.  But it is a man's place to protect them and that
is what we shall do."
    Marguerite pulled a derringer
pistol out of the pocket of her robe and pointed it at the door.  "Don't
worry, Clifford, dear.  I shall keep an eye out.  Wouldn't want you to miss any
of your beauty sleep."
    "That was not what I was
insinuating."
    "I don't think you were
insinuating anything, you lily coward."
    Clara pointed at the door at the
far end of the library.  "Excuse me.  There are several entrances to this
room, including one which goes into the room where Norman was murdered.  And it
appears to be open."
    They all turned.
    "Well, we know how the murderer
got in," said Horace, removing his key and walking over to close and lock
the doors.
    "Wait," said Wesley. 
"Was that door open before?"
    "What?"
    "When you went in and
looked at Norman's body, did you see this door open?"
    They all stopped and looked at
the room.
    "I seem to recall it was
closed," said Marguerite, her bright blue eyes flickering as she pieced
together the memory.  "And that's why it did not dawn on us that, of
course, the murderer used it to enter and exit."
    The open door stood there like
an accusation.
    "Well," said Horace,
resolute but seeming as if he wanted someone to dissuade him.  "I supposed
we shall just have to go in and make sure our murderer is not lying in
wait."
    "You go and flush him out,
father.  I shall keep the women safe... make sure the murderer doesn't sneak
around and get them while our backs are turned," said Clifford.
    Marguerite rolled her eyes.
    "May I borrow your
derringer?" Wesley asked hand outstretched. 
    Marguerite passed it over to
him, handle first.  "I call her Bessie."
    "Thank you."  Wesley
gave Clara's hand a reassuring squeeze before he walked over to join Clifford. 
"Shall we go inside?" he asked.
    Horace nodded and like two men
stalking prey in the tall grass, the crept towards the doors.  They flanked the
opening on either side and then, silently counting to three, they flung the
doors open.
    No one sprang out of the
darkness at them.
    "Can't see a blasted
thing!" bellowed Horace.  "How are we supposed to be able to see a
damned thing without a light!  Gilbert!  Gilbert, bring a light!"
    It was