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All of which could have been nicely illuminated if wed turned on the lights, of course. And there was a switch on the wall, right there. But we didnt attempt to use it. You see, a second rule you learn is this: electricity interferes. It dulls the senses and makes you weak and stupid. Its much better to watch and listen in the dark. Its good to have that fear. We stood in silence, doing what we do. I listened; Lockwood watched. It was cold in the house. The air had that musty, slightly sour smell you get in every unloved place. I leaned in close to Lockwood. No heating, I whispered. Mmhm. Something else too, you think Mmhm. A I breathed hard to calm myself and shut out morbid thoughts.












Then I closed my eyes against the taunting darkness and listened. Listened Its never pleasant, sitting in a haunted house, waiting in the dark. The night presses in around you and the silence beats against your ears; and soon, if youre not careful, you start to see or hear things that are the products of your mind. In short, you need distractions. Each of us at Lockwoods has our preference. I do a bit of drag, George has his comics, Lockwood reads the gossip magazines. But all of us like our tea and cookies, and that night in the Hopes house was no exception. We found the kitchen at the far end of the hall, just beyond the stairway. It was a nice enough room, neat and white and modern, and noticeably warmer than the hall. It had no supernatural traces of any kind. All was quiet. The knocking sound Id heard was inaudible here, and there was no repetition of the nasty bumping on the stairs. I got the kettle going, while Lockwood lit an oil lamp and set it on the table. By its light we took off our rapiers and work belts and them out before us. Our belts have seven separate clips and pouches; we went through these in silence, systematically checking the contents while the kettle wheezed and huffed away. Wed already checked everything back in the office, but we were more than happy to do it again. A girl at Rotwells had died the previous week after forgetting to restock her magnesium flares. Outside the dow, the sun was gone. Faint clouds choked the blueblack sky, and mists had risen to engulf the garden. Beyond black hedges, lights shone in other houses. They were near, but also distant, cut off from us like ships passing across deep water. We put the belts back on, and checked the Velcro fasteners around the rapiers. I fixed the tea and brought it to the table. Lockwood found the cookies. We sat together while the oil lamp flickered and shadows danced in the corners of the room. At last Lockwood pulled the collar of his overcoat high around his neck. Lets see what Mrs. Hope has to say for herself, he said. He stretched out a long, thin hand for the folder lying on the table. Lamplight glimmered darkly in his flop of hair. As he read, I checked the thermometer clipped to my belt: 59. Not warm, but roughly what youd expect from an unheated house this time of year. I took my notebook from another pouch and jotted down the room and temperature. I also recorded details of the aural phenomena Id experienced in the hall. Lockwood tossed the folder aside. Well, that was useful. Really No. Im being ironic. Or is it sarcastic I can never remember. Ironys cleverer, so youre probably being sarcastic. Whats she say Absolutely nothing of any use. She might as well have written it in Greek for all the good it does us. Heres a summary. The Hopes have lived here for two years. Before that, they were down in Kent somewhere; she gives lots of irrelevant detail about how happy they were. Hardly any curfews, ghostlamps almost never on, how you could go for a walk late evening and meet only your living neighbors. That sort of thing. Dont believe a word of it myself; Kent had one of the biggest outbreaks of anywhere outside London, according to George. I sipped my tea. Its where the Problem began, I thought.
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