“I begged her to tell me the story—I knew she knew things—but she wouldn’t, and she said she didn’t remember it real well anyway, which I knew was a fib, and pretty soon she had me saying our evening prayers.

“It was her bright idea that night that we should say an entire Rosary, and we did it, meditating on the Sorrowful Mysteries, and then we made an Act of Contrition as well. All this we offered up for the Poor Souls in Purgatory, and then we said the famous prayer to the Archangel Michael to defend us in battle against the Evil One, and then we went to sleep.

“Next day, I wrote to Aunt Queen about the discovery, and I told her that I had put the cameos with her collection in the parlor showcase, and that the pearls were in her dressing table, if she should want them. I asked if she would please tell me the story that Big Ramona wouldn’t tell. Who was Rebecca Stanford? How did her things get in our house?

“I went back up and searched all of the attic. Of course there were wonderful items—old art deco lamps and tables and overstuffed chairs and couches that were rotting, and even a couple of typewriters of the ancient black species that weigh a ton. Other bundles of old clothes appeared mundane and fit for the rag pile, and there was an ancient vacuum cleaner that ought to have been donated to a museum.

“As for the wicker furniture, I had all of it brought down to be restored, pending Pops’ approval, which was granted with a silent nod. The Shed Men were happy to have a new project, so that went all right.

“I didn’t find anything else that was really interesting. Rebecca Stanford was the mystery of the moment, and when I left the attic for the last time I took the leather-bound book I’d found in her things, and there came again that uneasy and exciting feeling. I saw Goblin in the doorway and again he shook his head.

“That it banished despair, this excited feeling—that’s what I liked.

“The following day, Thursday, was another quiet one, an in-between day, and the panic started in on me, and after lunch I went outside to walk the avenue of the pecan trees and feel the crunch of the pea gravel under my feet.

“The light was golden and I hated it because it was already failing, and the dread was coming on me thick.

“When I reached the front steps I sat down with the leather-bound book I’d found in Rebecca Stanford’s trunk, and tried to make out the writing inside.