"Weren't the lights on before?" asked Bart, as we approached the house. It was completely dark.

"I think so," I said. "Hey, look," I added. "There's a little cottage. Maybe we can ask there instead of at the big house." I felt relieved at the sight of the cottage, which was hidden in a grove of pines. It looked much homier than the brick house, although no lights were on.

"Must be the caretaker's house," said Charlie, unfastening his seatbelt. "Coming, Kristy?" he said. "Let's go see who's home."

I followed Charlie to the door of the cottage, and stood aside while he knocked. I was getting soaked by the rain, which was still pouring down, but I was beginning to feel hopeful that soon we'd all be warm and dry. Maybe the owner of the cottage would even give us some hot tea. Then the door opened.

Chapter 4.

A man stood in the doorway, looking down at us. He was tall and thin and a little stooped, and he had scraggly gray hair. It was still light enough for me to see that his face was gaunt and his gray eyes had no sparkle. The weird thing was that he just stood there looking at us. He didn't say a word.

I didn't say a word, either. I couldn't. I was speechless.

Luckily, Charlie pulled himself together. "Hello, sir," he said. "We were driving on the road down there," he pointed vaguely across the lawn, "and we got stuck when both of the bridges washed out."

Now, if I had been the man answering the door, I probably would have said, "Oh, dear, that's terrible. Why don't you come in and dry off?" But the tall man? He didn't say a word. He just kept looking at us. I felt the hairs at the back of my neck begin to prickle.

"I wonder if we could use your phone?" Charlie asked politely.

"No phone here," said the man. "Nor up at the big house. And even if we did have those confounded contraptions, they wouldn't work anyway. Power's out."