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“I’m not going to try to get past those dogs,” you tell Myra. “I’ve got to hide here until they’re back in their pen.” Myra glances around nervously at the door to the dining room. You realize that she, as well as you, could be in bad trouble if Grimstone’s men came in right now. She touches your shoulder and gestures. “There- in the laundry room. I don’t think they’ll look in there.” She opens a door and flicks on the light. You duck inside. The tiny room is lined with a washer and dryer on one side and a long table at the other side. At the far end is a small window. There’s nothing to do but wait until the coast is clear, you switch off the light and stretch out on the table. With a stack of folded towels for a pillow, you settle down for a nap. You sleep more soundly than you planned. When you wake up, the moon is high in the sky, casting a band of pale yellow light on the floor under the window. Suddenly you sit bolt upright. Standing on the washing machine is a fuzzy white image you instantly recognize. It is a man who is no longer a man-the ghost of Harlowe Thrombey! Turn to page 49
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