"Better take these with you, Brooks," she said. "The local light
company crawls under its bed every time there is a thunderstorm.
Good night, Brooks."

"Good night, ma'am," said the young man smiling. Following Billy
to the door, he paused. "You're being mighty good to me," he said
diffidently, smiled again, and disappeared after Billy.

As the door closed behind them, Miss Cornelia found herself smiling
too. "That's a pleasant young fellow--no matter what he is," she
said to herself decidedly, and not even Lizzie's feverish "Haven't
you any sense taking strange men into the house? How do you know
he isn't the Bat?" could draw a reply from her.

Again the thunder rolled as she straightened the papers and
magazines on the table and Lizzie gingerly took up the ouija-board
to replace it on the bookcase with the prayer book firmly on top of
it. And this time, with the roll of the thunder, the lights in the
living-room blinked uncertainly for an instant before they recovered
their normal brilliance.

"There go the lights!" grumbled Lizzie, her fingers still touching
the prayer book, as if for protection. Miss Cornelia did not answer
her directly.

"We'll put the detective in the blue room when he comes," she said.
"You'd better go up and see if it's all ready."

Lizzie started to obey, going toward the alcove to ascend to the
second floor by the alcove stairs. But Miss Cornelia stopped her.