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Page 14 When you arrive at Jenny’s house on Saturday, she greets you excitedly. “The Gray mansion is still empty,” she says. “Then what are we waiting for?” you reply. “Nothing, now that I’ve found my flashlight,” Jenny answers. There is a light drizzle falling and the sky has an oppressive, leaden look when you reach the top of a hill and look up at the huge Tudor house. Its turrets lean and its porches sag from decades of neglect. The massive front door is bolted shut, but halfway around the house you find an unlocked door that leads to a butler’s pantry you’ve hardly reached the somber, musty hallway when you hear a wailing, moaning sound that rises and falls in pitch, over and over. “This way,” Jenny says, her voice a little shaky You follow her into a large room with massive oak tables and chests and chairs covered with dark brown leather. Your eyes fix on the great stone fireplace. The wailing sound is louder now and it’s coming straight from the fireplace. Go to the next page