My first reaction was anger, rage at those who had dared to steal the body of my son. That was instantly followed by sickening horror at the thought of the purpose for which the body was surely to be used.

The Weber house was destroyed. The casket couldn’t be there. Could they have taken it into the Caine house? I ran back to the kitchen, slammed the door and bolted it.

Then I looked through all the rooms downstairs, but there was nothing in them that hadn’t been there before. Upstairs? More likely, despite the weight of the casket. The storeroom possibly, or maybe the third floor.

But I couldn’t make myself go up the stairs. What good would it do anyway if I found it, I thought. I couldn’t move it without help, couldn’t take it away with me. I would leave now and come back in the morning with Father Jackson. If we found it, I’d have the undertaker come and get it and cremate the contents—as should have been done in the first place.

I had picked up my purse and was at the front door when I heard music coming from upstairs. It was the Bach minuet being played on a flute. I was terrified, but I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t really hearing it but only remembering it.

I fled out the front door to the car and for a couple of awful moments couldn’t find the car keys. Then when I did find them, I couldn’t start the car. In my panic I flooded it, but I kept bearing down on the pedal anyway. The cranking sounds became slower and slower and then there was nothing. The battery was dead.

Then a slight movement on the lawn caught my eye, the wind fluttering black cloth. I turned my head and looked out the side window, and there by the front door of the house were Mrs. Reddy and Mrs. Weber.

They were standing there staring at me with their hands clasped as though in prayer or supplication. As before, they were both dressed in black—black dresses and black veils. I closed my eyes and screamed and screamed and when I looked again they were gone.

I had never been more frightened. It was growing darker outside and I knew I ought to get out of the car and run somewhere to a telephone, but I couldn’t move. The phone in the Caine house had been disconnected, but even if it hadn’t been I wouldn’t have been able to go back into the house.

I sat for a long while until the sun went down and it grew very dark. I couldn’t even turn my head to look at the house now. I thought I was going to die. I hoped I could die quickly and get away from the horror.