Kate hurried to say something more helpful. “I know it sounds unbelievable, Mr. Roberts,” she said. “I can’t explain how we got lost, but Mr. Marak certainly is no creation of ours. He’s the most unpleasant man I’ve ever met. He deliberately scared the wits out of me.”

Hugh Roberts studied her narrowly, clasping and unclasping his hands. Her pale, worn face and earnest voice made it obvious that she was sincere. “So you really believe in that story you told?” he demanded in surprise. “You didn’t invent that monster? You didn’t just make it up for a thrill?” Kate shook her head without a word. Her guardian noticed again how thin and sick she looked.

“Children, run up to your rooms for a few minutes. I’d like to speak to your aunts alone.”

Hugh Roberts left in the dogcart half an hour later. Noticing her aunts’ frightened eyes, Kate wondered in irritation what on earth hecould have said. They soothed Kate and fussed over her like two old hens. They didn’t let her sew or read. They wanted her to rest. And every time she said something—anything—they exchanged furtive glances.

Emily fared little better. At suppertime she tried to bring up the strange rider again, and Aunt Prim snapped at her.

“Don’t tell stories,” she said sternly.

“Stories!” Emily cried. “I never do! Kate—”

But Aunt Celia interrupted. “Leave your sister out of this,” she said sadly. “Kate’s nerves aren’t strong, but we expect you to know the difference between facts and falsehoods.”

“Well, I like that,” Emily stormed a few minutes later as she stomped back and forth on the wooden floor of Kate’s bedroom. “We tell them what someone else says, and we get blamed for lying. I’d like to see them face a ghost. I think your nerves are just fine.” She flung herself down on the bench at Kate’s dressing table. Looking in the tall, old mirror at its back, she made a disgusted face at herself.