There was a door at the side, which turned out to be locked. There was another in the back, opening off a small, screened-in porch. But the screening was rusty and had holes in it. Sig pulled at a piece and it tore right off in his hand. The door there also was locked, but there were two windows, one on either side.

“You hold this!” Sig thrust the flashlight into Artie’s hand, dropped his book bag on the porch, and tried the nearer window. He was not going to let Artie think he was afraid, not when it was his own plan.

At first the window would not budge; then it moved, but so hard that Artie had to help him push it up. There was a queer smell from inside. Sig sniffed and did not like it. But they could enter, and that was what mattered—he had proved this much to Artie.

They climbed over the sill and Sig switched on the flashlight, shining it around.

“Just a kitchen,” Artie said as the light picked up a sink, a very large stove that did not look much like those they had in the new houses, and a lot of cupboards.

“Sure,” Sig answered. “What did you think it was going to be? That was the back porch, so it opens from a kitchen.” Somehow the sight of that ordinary-looking sink and the stove made him feel more at home.

There were two doors. Artie opened the first to show steps leading down into the dark. He closed it hurriedly.

“Basement!”

“Yeah.” Sig was gaining confidence, though he did not want to explore below. However, he was sure that Mrs. Chandler’s locked rooms were not in the basement.

The other door gave into a much smaller room, which had glass-doored cupboards all around it. The glass was heavily coated with dust. Sig rubbed away a patch to look inside, but he saw nothing there except a lot of dishes.

Another door from this room brought them into a big dining room. Artie sneezed.

“Sure is dusty. Say, this is a big house. Look at the size of that table. Could feed our whole family for Thanksgiving and we have about fourteen people, counting the Grands and all. One guy, living here alone, must have felt queer with so much room.”

Sig was already ahead into another dim room, where the shades were pulled down, making it a gloomy cave. The flashlight showed them tables, chairs, a sofa. Some of the furniture had been covered up with sheets, even newspapers. Beyond was a hall with two more doors. The first opened on a room with a big desk and a lot of shelves, a few books still lying on some. The next one, though, did not open to Sig’s tugging. He turned excitedly to Artie.

“This is locked! Must be one of those rooms Mrs. Chandler talked about.”