Mansion of Mystery

In a secluded section of a certain eastern state which must remain
nameless, one may leave the main highway and travel up a winding road
around tortuous bends and under huge scowling trees, into wooded
country.

Upon a certain night--the date of which must remain vague--there came
a man who faced and was not turned back by a series of psychological
barriers along this road which made it more impregnable than a steel
wall. These barriers, which had kept out a hundred years of
curiosity-seekers until that certain night, were forged by the
scientific magic of a genius on a planet far beyond the sun.

The man who boldly followed his headlights up the road was of middle
age with calm, honest eyes and a firm mouth indicating bargains made
in his name would be kept. He pushed on, feeling the subtle force of
the psychological powers against him but resisting because he vaguely
understood them.

He left his car presently and raised his hand to touch the hard
outline of a small book he carried in his breast pocket and with the
gesture his determination hardened. He set his jaw firmly, snapped on
the flashlight he had taken from the dash of his convertible and moved
on up the road.

His firm, brisk steps soon brought him to its end, a great iron gate,
its lock and hinges rusted tight under the patient hand of Time. It
was high and spiked and too dangerous for climbing. But someone had
smashed the lock with a heavy instrument and had applied force until
the rusted hinges gave and the gate stood partially open. From the
look of the metal, this could have been done recently--even in the
past few minutes.

The man entered and found a flagstone pathway. He followed this for a
time with the aid of his flashlight. Then he stopped and raised the
beam.

It revealed the outline of a great stone mansion, its myriad windows
like black, sightless eyes, its silent bulk telling of long solitude,

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