SUFFER THE CHILDREN By John Saul

"Don't go into the woods, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth played the light over the floor of the cavern, and the
object which had glinted from above suddenly flashed once more: a
gold bracelet, set with a small opal. It was still on the wrist
of its owner. The Skeleton lay directly below the opening of the
shaft. Here and there small pieces of rotten cloth clung to it,
but they disintegrated into dust when Elizabeth touched them. She
played the light over the skull. She picked up a rusted metal
barrette that lay next to it and examined it carefully. She
nodded to herself. "I knew you were here," she whispered.
"Everything will be all right now. You'll see."


Sulter the Children

John Saul

PROLOGUE

One Hundred Years Ago

The surf was high that day, adding a backdrop of sound to the
late summer afternoon. High above the sea, the same wind that
built the waves seemed only to stroke the grass in which the
child played. She was a pretty thing, eleven years old, the
cornflower blue of her dress matching her eyes, and the blond
hair that only children possess cascading down her back and over
her shoulders as she bent to examine one of the tiny creatures
that shared her world. She poked at it with one small finger,
then pulled the finger away almost before she heard the tiny snap
that signaled the beetle's ascent into the air. She watched it
fall back to earth, and before it could scuttle away into the
grass she poked it again. Again it snapped, rose into the air,
and fell back to earth. She smiled to herself, then picked up the
beetle and put it in her pocket. Through the heavy material she
could just feel the movement of the struggling insect; its
snapping sounds were completely muffed. She glanced toward the
house a hundred yards away, then toward the road that wound down
the hill and out of sight. She half expected to see a carriage
coming up the hill, and her mother wait'rag expectantly on the
porch. But it was too early, much too early. She wondered what
her grandmother would bring. She hoped it would be a pet. The
child liked pets. Her attention changed as a gust of wind hit
her, and she turned to face the stand of woods that separated

10

the field from the high bank of the ocean beyond. For a long time
she stared into the wood, almost as though she saw something
there, something that was almost within her range of vision, yet
hovered just beyond the edge of sight. She felt an urge to go to
the woods, to step in among the trees and ferns and lose herself
from the house behind her. She knew she shouldn't. She knew the
woods were beyond the limits, that there was danger there. But
still, it would be nice to wander in the trees. Perhaps that was
why she began to follow the rabbit. Within the forest, hidden by
the foliage and the shadows of the trees above, a man sat staring
out into the field. His eyes never left the child, never glanced
to the side or farther out to the house that loomed across the
field. It was as if he were hypnotized, part of the scene, yet
somehow separated from it. He watched in silence as the child
looked first toward the house, then to the road, and finally
turned to look directly toward him. For a long moment, as she
seemed to examine him, seemed to look into his soul, he was
afraid she was going to turn and run. His muscles tensed, but he
felt nothing as he stared out of the darkness. Then the moment
was over. The girl turned away, and the man relaxed. His hand
reached for the bottle propped against a rock next to him, and he
took a long drink. It was a small rabbit, and the child knew it
couldn't have been more than a few months old. It peered at her
from beneath a bush, as if it knew that it was visible but hoped
that maybe no one would notice. For a long time it held very
still as the child approached it, but when she was still ten feet
away she saw it begin to twitch its nose. She knew that it was
about to boll
 
11

Still, if she held herself completely motionless, maybe it would
relax again, and then she could creep a little closer. She waited
until the rabbit's nose stopped moving, then inched closer.
Another foot. The nose began twitching again. She stopped. The
rabbit sat up and cocked its ears. The child held still.
Carefully, the rabbit eased back down to all fours, and it laid
its ears back, as if to disappear entirely into the brush.
The child moved forward once again, and the rabbit bolted.
Startled, the child jumped a little too, but her'
eyes never left the rabbit. She saw that it was crippled. One of
its hind legs was much weaker than the other, so that when it
leaped, it veered a bit to
left. And it seemed to be slow. Maybe she could help it. She
began following, creeping as close to the rabbit as she could
get, then watching in disappointment as it evaded her. The rabbit
seemed to have no plan in mind, and for a long time it darted
back and forth across the field, hiding first under one bush,
then under another.
In the woods, the man watched the chase, his eyes never leaving
the child. Occasionally he would see a grayish blur out of the
corner of his eye, and he was half aware that it was a rabbit.
But it didn't matter to him.
What mattered was the child. He raised the bottle to his mouth
again, and then it was empty.
Suddenly the rabbit seemed to develop a plan. It began making its
way toward the woods, still not in a straight line, but with a
series of leftward-veering hops that was drawing it directly
toward the spot where the man waited.
The child, now conscious only of the rabbit, followed along,
quickening her pace. She was beginning to be

12

able to anticipate the rabbit, to correct for its error even
before it made its jump. As it leaped into the woods, the girl
was only a few feet behind.
The man rose out of the bushes, the bottle held aloft, the
knuckles of his right hand white as they gripped its neck. He
brought the bottle down hard, crushing the rabbit's skull just as
it came to light at his feet. He straightened up in time to see
the child step from the light of the field into the shadows of
the forest. The wind seemed to pick up, and the roar of the surf
grew louder.
She didn't see the rabbit die. Rather, her mind held impressions:
The rabbit bouncing out of the field into the woods. A shape
looming before her that hadn't been there a second before.
A sound, not a crashing, but a sort of a dull crunching, and then
the rabbit, the small animal that she had
hoped to help, lying twitching at the feet of the man. She looked
up into his face.
The eyes were bloodshot, and a stubble of beard showed on his
chin. His eyes, which might once have been the sparkling blue of
an autumn sky, had gone dull, and the hair was a colorless tangle
that made his features almost unrecognizable. A flicker of
recognition crossed the child's face, but disappeared as the
beginning of a cry built in her throat when the man dropped the
bottle and reached for her.
One arm snaked around her small body, and the hand that had held
the bottle moved to cover her mouth before the cry could be
sounded. Her tongue touched his hand, and recoiled from the taste
of whiskey.
He picked her up effortlessly and swung around to carry her
deeper into the wood. As she struggled in his arms, his grip
tightened, and he began to feel a heat in his groin not caused by
the liquor in his blood.
He did it silently.

13

Silently he set her down in a small clearing, and silently he
pulled at his belt.
When it was free, he used it to bind her wrists, and when she
broke the silence with her cries, he slapped her, hard. Her cries
died away to a moan, and she stared up at him with the fear of a
trapped animal. The sun disappeared behind a cloud.
He dressed slowly, then removed the belt from the girl's wrists
and replaced it around his waist. Then he rearranged the child's
torn garments as best he could, and picked her up as gently as he
knew how. He cradled her head against his shoulder as he carried
her on through the woods, and then he was out of the woods once
more, standing on the high bank, holding
his child out to the sea, almost as an offering. It began to
rain.
For long moments he stood, as if waiting for a sign of some kind.
Then, adjust'rag the child in his arms so that he would have one
hand free, he began picking his way down the embankment, skirting
the rocks with a sure step, his free hand steadying himself only
when his weight tilted a loose stone.
When he was still fifty feet above the surf he began to make his
way around a large boulder. Behind it, hidden from all but the
most careful eye, the solid wall of the embankment was broken by
a small opening. He pushed the limp form of the child into the
opening; then he disappeared after it.
The sky seemed to open up as he emerged, alone, from the opening
in the embankment, and the wind whipped rain and sea-spray into
his face. The waters mixed, and a strange bittersweetness crossed
his tongue. Without looking back at the cave entrance, he began
making his way back up the embankment.
The rocks had grown slippery with the wetness of the storm, and
the wind seemed to be trying to pluck

14

him from his perch. Each time his foot slipped, his hands bled a
little more, but he didn't feel it. He felt only the firmness of
the earth below him, and the fury of the elements around him.
Then he had gained the top of the embankment, and he plunged
'back into the woods as if the sea would reach up to take him if
he hesitated for even a second. When the forest closed behind
him, he began to relax.
He walked purposefully through the woods now, past the trampled
ground where he had so recently lain with the child, to the spot
where the empty bottle
still lay where he had dropped it. And the rabbit.
He stopped then, and stared dwn at the rabbit, whose rain-soaked
body lay pitifully still.
He picked it up, cradling it in his arms like a baby, and began
to make his way across the field to the house beyond.
He didn't pause in the field, didn't take even a moment to look
once more at the place where she had played. Instead he kept his
eyes on the house, with the same hypnotic concentration with
which he had earlier watched the child.
He left the field, crossed the lawn, and entered the house
through the wide front door.
No one was there to. watch him as he bore the body of the rabbit
down the hall and into his study, nor were the gaslights yet
casting the shadows he feared to see.
He closed the door to his study, then went to sit in a chair in
front of the fireplace, the dead rabbit in his lap.
He sat there for a long time, huddled forward as if to draw
warmth from the cold hearth in front of him, his hands stroking
the rabbit's wet fur. Now and then he glanced up at the portrait
of the beautiful child in the cornflower silk dress that hung
above the mantel.

15

He didn't hear the carriage arrive, or the sound of the knocker
as it fell aga'mst the front door.
He didn't hear the light tapping at his own door; didn't hear the
slight click of the door opening, or the soft step of the maid
who came into his study. She waited quietly by his chair until at
last he noticed her.
"Yes?" The word was strange-sounding on his ear, as if someone
else had uttered it.
"I'm sorry, Mr. John," the maid said softly. "I'm looking for
Miss Beth. Her grandmother's asking for her."
"Miss Beth? Isn't she in the house? She was in the field."
"No, sir," the maid replied. "She doesn't seem to be in the house
at all. I thought perhaps "
He held up a hand wearily. "No," he said. "She isn't with me. Not
any more."
The maid turned to go, then turned back.
"Mr. John?" He looked up at her. "What's that in your lap?"
The man looked down, and for the first time seemed
to be conscious of the small creature on his lap. "It's a
rabbit," he said slowly.
"But what's wrong with it?" the maid asked.
"It's dead," he said. "It was so innocent, and now it's dead."
The maid left the room.
He sat there for a few more minutes, then he stood up. Carefully,
he placed the rabbit on the chair, then glanced once more at the
portrait above the mantel.
He left the study, closing the door after himself once more, and
retraced his steps down the hallway.
He passed through the front door, then turned to follow a walkway
around the corner of the house.
He followed the walkway until it ended, then followed the path
that picked up from the end of the walk.
At the end of the path, a cliff fell away to the sea below.

16

He stood for a moment, staring at the sea that battered far below
him, and his lips moved almost silently. And over the wind, lost
in the noise of the surf, a word drifted soundlessly away.
"Beth," he whispered. Then he repeated the name, and as the sound
fell away from him, he flung himself into the waiting sea.
For him, it was over.


BOOK I

Fifteen Years Ago


Port Arbello perched snugly on the bluffs above the ocean, its
trees flourishing the last of their fall finery with a bravado
that belied the nakedness soon to come. The breeze off the
Atlantic signaled an end to Indian summer, and Ray Norton smelled
the first signs of winter in the air as he turned the town's only
police car onto Conger's Point Road.
Ray had grown up in Port Arbello, and now, in his midfifties, he
was beginning to feel old. He had watched himself change and grow
older as Port Arbello stayed the same. He tried to remember what
changes had come to the town since he had been born, and realized
that there just weren't enough to make much of a difference.
There was the new motel, doing its best to act as if it had been
there since the beginning of time. It hadn't been, and as he
passed it Ray wondered what would become of it when the losses
finally became too great for even its management to tolerate.
Maybe the town could buy it and turn it into a country club. Get
rid of the neon sign. Put in a golf course.
Then he remembered that Port Arbello had already tried a country
club, or at least a building near the old golf course. That had
failed too, and the building now stood , acant and dying, serving
only as a shelter for the few people who still used the golf
course. There weren't more than forty or fifty of them, and it
was

20

all they could do to keep raising the funds to pay the
greenskeeper each year.
All in all, other than the new motel (which was already fifteen
years old), there wasn't much that was new in Port ArbeIlo. A
store occasionally changed hands, a house came on the market now
and then, and once in a while a new family came to town. For the
most part, though, the town kept to itself, passing its homes and
its businesses from one generation to the next. Its small farms
remained small farms, and its small fishing fleet continued to
support a small group of fishermen.
But that was the way they liked it, Ray realized. They had grown
up with it, and they were used to it They had no hitention of
changing it. He remembered a few years back how many he was no
longer sure, but it must have been right after the War when a
realestate developer had bought up a lot of acreage outside the
town limits. He was going to turn Port Arbello into a summer
town, filled with A-frames and summer natives.
The town had caught wind of the plan, and for the first time in
its history, Port Arbello had moved quickly. In a single town
meeting, with the support of everybody except the farmer who had
sold his property, Port Arbello had passed zoning ordinances to
prohibit such projects, then annexed the property that was to be
developed. The developer fought it through the courts, but Port
Arbello won. In the end, the developer had been unable to sell
the property, and the farmer, a couple of hundred thousand
dollars richer, had foreclosed on the mortgage, bought himself
all the newest equipment he could find, and was still happily
working his land at the age of eighty-six. Ray grinned to
himself. That was the way of things in Port Arbello.
He tooted his horn as he passed the old farmer, but didn't wave.
He didn't have to, for the farmer, intent on what he was doing,
didn't look up from his field.

21

But Ray knew that the next time he saw him in town, the old man
would touch the brim of his hat and say, "Nice to see you the
other day, Ray." That, too, was the way things were done in Port
Arbello.
A mile out of town the Conger's Point Road made the left turn
that would take it partway out to the Point before it cut back
inland on its way south. Ray supposed that this, too, was
something new, though the road had been extended far beyond
Conger's Point long before he was born. But in the old days, the
really old days, it had probably ended at the Congers' front
door, a direct pipeline from the heart of the town to the
residence of its leading citizens.
The Conger family, though not the founders of Port Arbello, had
been at the top of the social heap there for so long that it was
now a tenet of faith with the people that not much could go on in
Port Arbello without the approval of the Congers. It was also a
tenet of faith that the Congers were rich. Not as rich, perhaps,
as the Rockefellers and the Carnegies, but close enough so that,
to Port Arbello, it didn't make any difference. They still
remembered the days when the railroad had built a special spur
into Port Arbello to accommodate the needs of the Admiral's
private car. They still remembered the days when the staff at
Conger's Point was twice the size of the Conger family (which,
until recently, had never been small). They assumed that the
Congers, being people of taste and sensitivity, had let the staff
go not because they could no longer afford them, but because
large staffs had come to be considered ostentatious.
Ray Norton, who lived on the Point Road himself, and had grown up
with Jack Conger's father, knew better. Ray had been of an age
that fell between Conger generations, and felt himself privileged
to be on warm social terms with two generations of Congers, even
though the older one was now dead. Ray had been seventeen years
younger than Jack Conger's father, and

22

was fifteen years older than Jack. That, plus the fact that he
was a neighbor and the chief of police, had put him in a position
of being close to power. He enjoyed that position. And he was
careful not to undermine it by talking about what he knew of the
Congers.
He pulled the car off the road and into the Congers' driveway.
You could see the house even before you turned into the drive.
Indeed, you could see it from the moment the road passed the end
of the forest that flourished along the north bank of the Point,
and began flanking the field that separated the house from the
woods. But Ray was always careful not to look at the house until
he had reached the end of the driveway. From there, he could
absorb it, could enjoy the grandeur with which it sat at the end
of its lane, its full veranda staring austerely through the
double row of ancient oaks that lined the drive. It was a
saltbox, nearly two hundred years old, but its simple square
lines seemed to fit with the bleakhess of the lonely point on
which it stood. It had a pride to it as ff it were challenging
the sea to reach up and sweep it away. So far, the sea had not
met the challenge, and Ray Norton doubted that it ever would.
He parked the car and crossed the porch to the great oaken door.
As always, he was tempted to raise the antique brass door knocker
and let it crash against its plate to cause the resounding boom
in the house that always brought visions of times past into his
head. But, as always, he resisted the impulse and pressed the
button that would sound the door chimes in the main hall .within.
"Newfangled gimcrack," he muttered to himself, parodying his New
England background.
Rose Conger opened the door herself, and her face broke into a
pleased smile at the sight of Ray Norton.
"Ray If you're looking for Jack, you're in the wrong place. He
really does work these days, you know."

23

"I'll get to him later," Ray-said. "Right now I need
 to talk to you. Have you got any coffee on?" Rose stepped back
to let him in.
"I don't, but I'm sure Mrs. Goodrich does. If anything ever
happens to her, I don't know what we'll all do. Is this a social
visit, or are we talking seriously? It makes a difference, you
know. When this place was built, they had separate rooms for all
kinds of conversations. Take your pick."
"How about the back study? I always liked that room. But only
when a fire's lit."
Rose smiled. "It's laid, but it's not lit. Let's go fix that. Why
don't you get the fire started while I find Mrs. Goodrich?"
Without waiting for an answer, she started toward the back of the
house, but turned toward the kitchen, leaving Ray to continue
into the back study.
He lit the fire, then seated himself in the old leather wing
chair just to the right of the fireplace. He glanced around the
room, and realized how comfortable he was here. Often he wished
the house were his.
When Rose Conger joined him, Ray was staring at the picture above
the mantel.
'That's new, isn't it?" he said.
"Only for us," Rose replied. "I haven't any idea how old it is.
We found it in the attic a year ago, but just got around to
having it cleaned last month." She shuddered slightly. "Have you
any idea how much it costs to have a portrait cleaned?"
"I don't have any ancestors worth cleaning. Who was she?"
"I haven't the vaguest idea. From the way she's dressed, I'd say
the portrait must be just about ninety years old. We can't figure
out who she was. There's no one in any of the family albums who
looks like that, or who might have looked like that when she was
young."
Ray looked at the picture carefully. "Well, it's ob-

24

VieuS who she looks like. She looks like Elizabeth."
Rose nodded her head. "She does, doesn't she? She definitely has
Elizabeth's eyes, and the hair seems to be the same color, too.
But she looks like she's two or three.years younger than
Elizabeth."
They looked at the portrait together, and were still staring at
it when Mrs. Goodrich appeared with their coffee.
"How children were expected to play dressed like that," she said,
following their eyes to the painting, "absolutely beats me. No
wonder there were so many servants around here. It'd take one
girl all week just to wash that child's clothes. And with no
machines." She shook her head. "All I can say is, I'm glad times
have changed." She set the coffee down, nodded to Ray, and left
the room.
"And ff she had her way," Rose said as she poured the coffee,
"she'd have Elizabeth and Sarah dressed that way all the time.
And she'd keep the clothes clean, even ff she had to beat them on
a rock to do it. Times may change, but not Mrs. Goodrich."
Ray grinned. "I know. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she
hasn't changed at all since I was a kid. I always wondered ff
there was ever a Mr. Goodrich."
"Who knows?" Rose shrugged. "One simply doesn't ask Mrs. Goodrich
such questions' She setfled down on the sofa opposite Ray and
sipped the coffee. "So what brings you out here in the middle of
the day? Run out of crooks in Port Arbello?"
"I wish we had. Have you heard about Anne Forager?"
"Anne? Has something happened to her?"
"We don't know. Her mother called us this morning, very early.
Apparently Anne came in late last night, long after she should
have been home, and she was a mess. Her dress was tom, she was
covered with mud, and she had a few scratches." -

25

Rose paled. "Good God, Ray, what happened to her?" "So far, we
aren't sure. She says she was on her way home from school and
that something happened to her. But she won't say what. She keeps
saying that she doesn't remember. That all she remembers is that
she was walking home from school, and then she was walking toward
town along the Point Road, covered with mud."
"What time was that?" "She got home around eleven." "My God, Ray,
and you mean her parents didn't call you? I mean, Anne Forager
can't be more than
seven or eight years old " "She's nine." "All right, so she's
nine! You can bet that if Sarah or even Elizabeth were missing
that late at night, you'd have already been out looking for her
for two or three hours."
"That's you, Rose. But these people are different.. Around here,
nobody thinks anything bad can happen. Marry and Marge just
assumed that Anne was with some friend, and that was that. Until
she came home.
Now we're trying to find out what happened." "Has a doctor seen
her?"
"She's there now. I should find out what he has to say later this
afternoon. What I need to know from you
is if you were home yesterday afternoon." "Not unffi five or five
thirty. Why?"
"I was hoping you might have seen something. Anne says she walked
back to town from here, or very close to here. From the mud, it
looks like she must have
been near the embankment." "Or the quarry."
Ray's. eyebrows rose. "Of course. The quarry. I'd forgotten all
about it."
"I wish I could," Rose said. "I wish I could fill it in

26

Someone's going to get killed out there someday, and I don't care
what Jack says, it's going to be our fault."
"Oh, come on, Rose. That old quarry has been there forever and
nobody's ever come to grief there yet. Besides, the fishing is
the best in town. Fill that old quarry in and half the kids in
Port Axbello would be on your back."
"We could consider building them a swimming pool and letting them
do their fishing in the stream," Rose said acidly. "I don't think
anyone realizes how danger-
IS. ous that place" "Well, be that as it may, we don't know where
Anne was. She could have been at the quarry, she could have been
on the embankment, or she could have been anywhere else. We won't
know until she starts talking."
"If she starts talking." Rose mused, wondering immediately if it
had been wise to voice the thought. She glanced at Ray and saw
Compassion in his eyes. Well, they were old friends, and he had
long been
 aware of the Congets' private torments. "If?" Ray inquired
gently.
Rose shrugged. "She may not, you know. If something happened to
her, something she doesn't want to remember, she might simply
block it out of her mind."
"Unless the doctor determines she's been raped," Ray said, "I
can't imagine what it could be. And, frankly, I just don't think
she's been raped. Not here. Not in Port Arbello."
Rose smiled thinly. "Things like that do happen a lot more often
than anyone hears about."
Ray shook his head doubtfully. "lf you want my opinion, I think
Anne stayed out a lot later than she was supposed to, and has
thought up a nice story to get herself out of the p_nnishment she
deserves. If she were my child..."
"Which she's not," Rose pointed out. Ray chuckled. "No, she
isn't, is she? But I am the

 27

chief of police, and I have a job to do. Is that what you're
saying?"
"That's what I'm saying." Rose smiled. "Let me call Elizabeth.
Maybe she'H know something you don't."
She went to the door of the study and called her daughter. She
was pouring them both a second cup of coffee when Elizabeth
Conger came into the room.
She was about thirteen, but had none of the awkwardness of most
children of that age. Ray noted that the resemblance to the old
portrait was remarkable indeed. The same eyes, the same silky
blond hair, and, if the hair had been combed differently to flow
freely over her shoulders, the same features. Elizabeth wore a
ponytail, with bangs in frout, the blond ha'it almost blending
into the pale skin that was set off by her incredible sky-blue
eyes.
Behind Elizabeth another child, Sarah, hovered silently. Two
years younger than El'zabeth, Sarah provided an odd contrast to
the older girl. She was dark, and her eyes seemed to sink deeply
inside her, as if she lived in another world. Her hair was
cropped short, and was as dark as Elizabeth's was blond. And,
while Elizabeth was dressed in a neatly pressed mini-skirt and
ruffled blouse, Sarah wore blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.
Elizabeth came into the room and smiled at Ray. "Hello, Mr.
Norton. Did you finally catch up with Mother? She's been
overparking again. If you want to take her now, I can have Mrs.
Goodrich pack a bag for her." She sat down, enjoying the laughter
of her mother and the police chief.
"Sorry, Elizabeth," Rose said. "He can't prove a thing." Then her
voice took on a serious tone, and Elizabeth's smile faded as she
was asked if she had seen Anne Forager near the house the
previous afternoon. She thought carefully before she answered.
When she finally spoke, there was a maturity in her voice that
belied her age.

28

"I don't think so. The last I remember seeing Anne yesterday, she
was walking toward Fulton Street, by herself. It looked like she
was going home."
Ray nodded. "That's what Anne says, too. She was walking along
Fulton Street, and then she doesn't
remember a thing until she was out this way." "This way?"
Elizabeth asked.
"Anne says she doesn't know what happened. But she says she
walked home along the Point Road about eleven."
"Then that lets me out," Elizabeth said. "I go to bed at nine
every night."
"WEB, then," Rose said, standing up. "I guess that's that. I'm
sorry, Ray, but it doesn't look like we can help you. Your trip's
been wasted."
Ray, too, rose, and all four of them walked together the length
of the hall. Ray waited while Elizabeth led her sister up the
stairs, then looked at Rose. There was concern in his eyes, and
Rose was able to anticipate his question.
"I think she's getting better, Ray. I really do. She still
doesn't talk, but she seems a little more animated than she did a
year ago." Then some of the brightness left her voice. "Of
course, I may be kiddine myself. The school says that they don't
think anything's changed, that she's the same as ever. But, on
the other hand, Elizabeth seems to think she's better. And God
knows, Sarah spends more time with Elizabeth than with any of the
rest of us. I don't know what I'd do without her. I really
don't."
They said their good-byes, and Rose stood on the porch and
watched as Ray drove down to the Point Road. Then she turned and
stared specUlatively across the field to the woods that hid the
embankment from her view. Finally she turned back to the house,
and went upstairs to find her children.

29

They were in the playroom, and the door stood open. Rose stayed
silently in the hall for a moment, watching as Elizabeth
patiently built a tower, then rebuilt it after Sarah knocked it
down. Rose once more was impressed with Elizabeth's patience with
her strange younger sister.
Elizabeth looked up as her mother came into the room, and smiled.
"One of these days the tower is go'me to stand," she said. "And
on that day I'm going to tell Sarah that it's time for a new toy.
Until then, I build and she knocks over." Elizabeth immediately
noticed the pain in her mother's face, and tried to reassure her.
"I don't mind, Mother. I'd rather have her knock them over than
not do anything at all."
Rose relaxed, but only a little. In her mind she blessed
Elizabeth once more. Aloud she said, "Elizabeth, you don't go
near the embankment or the woods, do you?"
"Of course not, Mother," Elizabeth said, not looking up from the
new construction she was building for Sarah. "You've already told
me how dangerous it is. Why wonld I want to go there?"
She put the last block in place, and watched as Sarah's arm came
out to knock it over.


2

Jack Conger reached instinctively to adjust the mirror as he
turned off the Point Road into the long driveway. He was a
fraction of a second too late, and the gFmt of the setting sun
caught him in the eyes just before it moved off his face to
settle in a harmless rectangle in his lap. He blinked
refiexively, and once more cursed his ancestor who had so
conscientiomly laid this road out on its perfect east-west axis.
New England neatness, he thought. God, they were all so -he
groped for the right word, then made his choice as he looked down
the driveway at his homo severe. That was it, all right. They
were severe. An absolutely straight drive leading to an
absolutely plain house. He wondered jsst which of his forebears
had had the temerity to break the line of the home with the wide
porch. The porch, he had always felt, didn't really fit the
house, though without it the home would have been totally lacking
in any kind of warmth. Jack parked the car in front of the
converted carriage house, no

w the garage, and went around the comer of the house to go in the
front door. The Congers, he had been taught since birth, always
used the front door. The side door was for children, and the rear
for servants and merchants. Jack knew it was silly, but habit was
habit, and besides, it was about the last of the old traditions
that he could still keep up. The squire to the end, he thought as
he closed the front door behind him.
No butler waited to take his coat, and no maid

32

scurried out of his study as he entered it. He supposed, wryly,
that he could pull the old bell cord and ask Mrs. Goodrich to
bring him a drink, but he knew he would only be told once more
that "grown men can mix their own drinks. Things aren't the way
they used to be, you know." Then dinner would be slightly burned,
just to remind him that he'd overstepped his bounds. He mixed his
drink himself.
He had settled himself in front of the fireplace, and was
weighing the pros and cons of stoking up the fire when he heard
his wife's footstep in the hall.
"Rose?" he called, almost as if he hoped it wasn't. "Is that
you?" Rose came into the room, crossed the floor to her husband,
and gave him one of those kisses usually
class'riled as a peck. She sniffed at his glass. "Is there
another one of those?"
Jack's eyebrows lifted slightly. "So early?" "It's been one of
those days. Will you do the honors, or do I have to fix it
myself?"
JaCk smiled, but it wasn't a comfortable smile. "S'mce you didn't
make any cracks about 'practice makes perfeet,' I'll do it for
you. Aren't you home a little early?" he asked as he moved to the
bar.
"I've been here since lunch," Rose replied, setfling herseft on
the couch. "All my work this afternoon was on paper, and the
office was just too busy. I close three deals tomorrow, making us
fifteen thousand dollars richer. Shall we drink to that?" She
took the glass from his hand and raised it toward him. "To the
recouping of the Conger fortune."
Jack raised his own glass halfheartedly, and settled back into
his wing chair.
"You don't seem too thrilled about it," Rose said carefully. "The
Conger fortune," Jack said, "should be recouped by a Conger, if
it is to be recouped at all. Not a Conger wife."

33

"Well," Rose said shortly, "I guess we don't need to talk about
that any more. I had a visitor this afternoon."
"Is that unusual?" Rose stared at her husband for a moment,
fighting the urge to rise to the bait. When she was sure she had
herseft under control, she spoke again. "Jack, let's not fight,"
she said. "Let's spend a quiet, comfortable eve nine at home,
just like we used to."
Jack looked at her carefully, trying to see ff he could spot a
flap. After a moment, he relaxed, his shoulders dropping slightly
and his breath, which he hadn't realized he'd been holding,
coming deeply. Now, for the first time since she'd come into the
room, his smile was warIn.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I'm just learning to be defensive
all the time. Who came by? You made-it sound important."
"I'm not sure ff it was or not. It was Ray Norton and he was here
on business."
"That," Jack said speculatively, "would have to do with Anne
Forager, right?" "You already know?"
"You forget, my love, that I'm the editor of the only paper in
town. Granted, it isn't much, but it is mine own. And in my
illustrious position, there isn't much that goes on in this town
that I don't hear about. The Port Arbello Courier may not be a
major paper, but it is a fine gossip center. In short, yes, I've
heard about Anne. Probably a lot more than you, since my sources,
unlike Ray Norton's, are not sworn to stick
to the facts, ms'am. What would you like to know?" "What happened
to her," Rose said.
"Ah, now that complicates things," he said, growing somber. "Anne
Forager, at various times of the day, has been reported to be
missing, to be dead, to have been raped and decapitated, to have
been raped but not decapitated, and to have been decapitated but
not

34

raped. Also, she has been reported as having been severely beaten
and now hovering between life and death. Or she deserves to be
spanked, depending on who you listen to. In other words, you
probably know a lot more about it than I do, since you talked to
Ray, and everybody else talked to me." He drained his glass and
stood up. "Would you like me to fix that for you, or are you
going to nurse it along?"
"I'll nurse it," Rose said. She continued talking while Jack
fixed his second drink. She noted that it was a double, but
decided not to mention it. Instead, she occupied herself with
recounting Ray Norton's visit that afternoon.
" And that's about it," she finished. "Ray didn't go down to see
you this afternoon?" Jack shook his head. "Thats funny. I had the
distinct impression he was planning to go directly from here to
your office."
"If I know Ray," Jack said drily, "he went -from here directly to
the quarry, to have a look around. Probably complete with a pipe
and a magnifying glass. Was he wearing his deerstalker hat?"
Rose grinned in spite of herself. "Jack, that isn't fair. Ray
isn't like that, and you know iL"
"How do I know it?" Jack shrugged. "Ray hasn't had a real case to
work on since the day he went to work for Port Arbello. I'll bet
he was more happy than concerned that something has finally
happened here, wasn't he?"
"No, he wasn't. He seemed to be very concerned. And why are you
being so hard on him? I thought you were good friends."
"Ray and I? I suppose we are. But we also know each other's
limitations. I don't think he's Sherlock Holmes, and he doesn't
think I'm Horace Greeley. But we like to act like we are. It
makes us feel important." "And you have to feel important?"
Jack's guard went up immediately. "What's that supposed to mean?"

35

"Forget it," Rose said cluickly. "It wasn't supposed to mean
anything. What do you suppose really did happen to Anne Forager?"
"Anne? Probably nothing. I tend to go along with the idea that
she stayed out too late and came up with a good story to avoid
her punishment. Children are like that."
"Not ours," Rose said quietly. "No," Jack said. "Not ours." He
stared into his drink for a moment. "Where are they?"
"Upstairs. Elizabeth's playing with Sarah. Oh, God, Jack, what if
the same thing happened to Anne that happened to Sarah?"
Jack recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "It didn't, Rose. If
something Fike that had happened, she wouldn't be talking about
it at all. She wouldn't be talking. She'd be sitting staring at
the walls just · . . sitting." He broke off for a moment, as if
it was too painful to continue. Then he forced himself to speak
again.
"She's going to get better. She'll be back in school next year."
"She's in school," Rose said gently. "I mean regular school,
where she belongs. Not that other place." The bitterness in his
voice hung in the air.
Rose bit her lip for a minute, trying to choose the fight words.
"It's a good school, Jack. Really it is. And Sarah's doing well
there. You know she isn't well enough to go to public school.
Think what would happen to her. Why, the children alone..." She
trailed off.
"We should keep her at home," Jack said. "She belongs at home,
with people who love her."
Rose shook her head. "It isn't love she needs, fight now. She
needs to have people around her who understand her problem, who
can help her. God knows, I don't have the time or the skills to
devote to her."
"It isn't right," Jack insisted. "That school. That's

36

for crazy kids, and retarded kids. Not for Sarah. Not for my
daughter. All she needs is to be around normal kids, kids like
Elizabeth. Look how well she does with Elizabeth..."
Rose nodded. "Of course I know how well she does with Elizabeth.
But do you think all children are like Elizabeth? HoW many other
children would have her patience? Children can be cruel, lack.
What do you think would happen to Sarah if she were back in
public school? Do you think they'd all play with her the way
Elizabeth does? Because if you do, you're crazy. They'd tease
her, and taunt her. They'd play with her, all right, but she
wouldn't be a playmate; she'd be a toy. It would only make her
worse, lack."
He finished his drink and rose to fix a third. Rose watched him
go to the bar, and a wave of pity swept over her. He suddenly
seemed unsure of himself, his step wary, as if something were
waiting to trip him. As he ted the bottle to pour the liquor into
his glass, she spoke again.
"Do you think you ought to?"
"Ought to?" lack glanced back at her over his shoulder. "No, I
don't think I ought to. But rm going to. There's a difference,
you know."
The scream came before Rose could reply. Jack froze where he
stood, the liquor streaming out of the bottle, overflowing the
glass as the terrified shriek filled the house. It seemed to root
him to the spot, and it wasn,t until it had finally died away
that he was able to let go of the bottle. Rose was already in the
hall by the time the bottle broke on the floor, and if she heard
it, she didn't turn around. lack glanced at the mess at his feet;
then he too ran from the room.
The awful sound had come from the floor above. Rose and Mrs.
Goodrich met at the bottom of the stairs, and Rose came close to
toppling the housekeeper as she scrambled up the single flight.
Mrs. Goodrich recovered, and made her way up the stairs

37

as quickly as her age and arthritis would allow. lack passed her
halfway up.
"What was it?" he asked as he passed. "Sarah," Mrs. Goodrich
panted. "It was Miss Sarah's voice. God Almighty, hurry!"
lack was at the top of the stairs when he saw his wife disappear
into the chlldren's playroom. By the time he got to the door, he
realized that whatever had happened, it was over.
Rose stood just inside the door, a slightly dazed look on her
face. In one coruer, Sarah sat huddled against the wall, her
knees drawn up under her chin, her arms wrapped around herself.
She wore a flannel nightgown, whose folds spread around her and
seemed to give her extra protection. Her eyes, unnaturally wide,
stared vacantly outward, and she was whimpering to herself.
In the center of the room, Elizabeth sat cross-legged on the
floor, her fingers on the indicator of a Ouija board, her eyes
closed tight. She seemed oblivious of her sister's terror, as if
she had not even heard the piercing scream of a moment before. As
lack came into the room, Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled up
at her parents.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. "Wrong? Didn't you hear it?"
Jack demanded.
Comprehension dawned on Elizabeth's face. "You mean the scream?"
she asked.
Rose swallowed hard. "Elizabeth, what happened?" "Nothing,
really," Elizabeth replied. "We were just in here playing with
the Ouija board."
"Where did you find " lack started to say, but Rose cut him off.
"Never mind that now. What happened?"
"Nothing happened, Mother. We were just playing with the Ouija
board, and nothing much was happening. Then Cec'fi brushed up
against Sarah, and she screamed."

38

"That's all?" Jack asked, disbelief sounding in his voice. "But
look at her. She's terrified." Rose was moving toward Sarah now,
and the little girl shrank farther into her corner.
"Well, of course she's terrified," Rose said. "If that cat had
brushed up against me, I would have jumped
tOO." "But that scream," Jack said. "I guess it was kind of
awful," Elizabeth admitted. "But you have to get used to it."
"She's right," Rose said, stooping over Sarah. "Sarah doesn't
react the way the rest of us do. Mrs. Montgomery tells me it
isn't anything to worry about. It's just that Sarah doesn't react
to very much, and when she does react, she tends to overreact.
Mrs. MOntgomery says the best thing to do is simply act as ff
nothing happened at all. For instance, ff Cecil brushed up
against me and I jumped, would you make a big fuss about it? Of
course not. And that's what we should try to do with Sarah. If we
stay calm, she'll be all fight. If we make too'much of a fuss, it
will only scare her more."
"Can you do it?" Jack asked. "Can you get used to her being this
way?"
"I'll never get used to screams like that," Rose muttered as she
gathered Sarah into her arms. For a moment Sarah seemed to shrink
away from her mother, but then, as ff she suddenly realized where
she was, her arms went around Rose's neck, and she buried her
face in the warm breast. Rose, totally immersed in calming her
child, carried Sarah from the room.
Jack, still standing at the door, moved aside to let his wife
pass. He made a small gesture, as if to put a comforting hand on
Sarah, but Rose was already through the door by the lime he had
made up his mind to complete it. His hand wavered uncertainly in
the air for a moment, then disappeared into his pocket. He stared
at the Ouija board.

39

"Where did you get that thing?" he asked. Elizabeth glanced up.
"It was in the storeroom. You know, the one where we found the
old picture. How old do you think it is?"
"Not that old. Probably thirty, forty years. Those things were
popular in the twenties. Everybody had one, and everybody was
holding s6anees. I seem to remember my parents and their fxiends
playing with one. Probably that one."
"Want to try it with me?" Elizabeth asked. "Maybe we could find
out who the girl in the picture is."
Jack smiled at her. "We know who it is," he said. "It's obviously
you. Same eyes, same hair. Only I don't understand why you never
wear that dress any more."
"Oh, it's so old," Elizabeth said, her eyes twinkling as she
joined the game. "I've had it for at least a hundred years. It's
really just a rag now." She sighed. "I suppose I'll have to throw
it out."
"Don't. I can't afford to buy you a new one. Maybe that Ouija
board can tell me where the money goes."
"Maybe so," Elizabeth said, a note of eagerness in her voice.
"Want to try it?"
For a moment Jack was tempted. Then he remembered Sarah, and
shook his head. "I'd better get downstairs and see if-I can help
your mother with
Elizabeth nodded. "Okay. I'll be down after a while." She watched
her father leave the room, then glanced down at the Ouija board.
Then she remembered the cat.
"Cecil," she called. "Cec'fi? Where are you?" She held still for
a minute or two, listening, then called to the cat again.
"Cecil? I'll find you, you know, so you might as
well come out now."
There was no telltale scuffling to tell her where the cat was
hiding, so she began a search of the room. Eventually she
discovered the cat, clinging to the inside of the draperies,
halfway up from the floor. She

40

pulled a chair over and stood on it while she disengaged the
cat's claws from the thick material.
"Did Sarah frighten you?" she said. "Well, you frightened her
first. If you don't want her to scream, you mustn't brush up
against her like that. But it isn't your fault, is it? How would
you know it would scare her? All you wanted was a little
attention. So you let go of that curtain and come down here with
me. Come on, let go. It's all right now."
She freed the last of the claws and, holding the cat close,
stepped down from the chair. She carried the cat to the Ouija
board and sank back to her crosslegged position, placing Cec'fi
in her lap. She sat for a long time, stroking the cat, talking
softly to him, waiting for him to calm down. When at last Cec'fi
closed his eyes and began to purr, Elizabeth stopped stroking him
and put her fingers back on the indicator of the Ouija board.
An hour later, still carrying the sleeping Cecil, Elizabeth came
downstairs for dinner.

3

She watched the moon creep up from the horizon, watched the
silvery road shoot across the sea toward the base of the cliff
that supported the house high above the surf. She listened for a
moment, as if expecting the pounding surf to lessen its dull roar
in the new brightness of the full moon. But the noise-did not
abate. The end of the silver road appeared, just short of the
horizon, and she felt depressed as the gap between the moon and
its reflection widened. As the moon climbed out of the sea, it
seemed to shrink.
"It always seems to get smaller as it gets higher," Rose said,
more to herself than to Jack. He glanced up from the book he was
read'rag, and adjusted his
sprawling position as Rose came over to the bed. "What does?"
"The moon. It always looks so huge when it starts to rise, then
gets smaller."
"It's an illusion," Jack said. "Something to do with the
proximity to the horizon."
She cuddled close to him, and tried to ignore the slight drawing
away she felt in his body. "That's my Jack, literal to the core.
Can't you try to imagine it as really shrinking? As though
somebody was letting some of the air out?" She ran her fingers
through the hair on his chest, feeling the ripple of muscles just
below the skin. She reached across his stomach and snatched the
book away from him. He rolled over and scowled at her.

42

"Hey," he said. "I was reading that book." She grinned at him.
"Not any more. I'm tired of you keeping your nose in that book. I
want to play." She sat up and slipped the book behind her.
"Oh? Okay, we'll play. Give me back the book before I count to
ten." As he reached nine, Rose slipped the book into the bodice
of her nightgown. Jack's eyebrows rose a notch. "So that's what
you want to play?"
Rose lay back, striking a seductive pose. "If you want it, come
and get it." Her eyes danced as she challenged him.
Jack made a grab at the book, and as he came close to her, Rose
tossed the book aside and slid her arms around his neck. His
hand, caught between them, was pressed against her breast.
"Touch me, darling," she whispered into his ear. "Please touch
me." Jack hesitated for a moment, then began moving his hand over
his wife's breast, feeling the nipple harden under his touch.
Rose moved her face around and began kissing him, her tongue
lightly probing between his lips, trying to find an entry. She
pulled him down till he was lying on top of her, and her hands
began to move over his back, caresshag him, stroking him. For a
moment just a moment she thought he was going to respond. As she
felt his body go llmp, felt the weight of him lying inertly above
her, her fingers mined into daws, and she scratched at him
violently. Reacting to the pain, Jack leaped from the bed.
"God damn you," Rose snarled. "God damn you to hell for the
no-good man you arel" There was no laughter in her eyes now, only
a blinding rage that frightcried Jack.
"Rose " he began. But she got up swiftly, her sudden movement
cutting off his plea, and stood op-

43

posite him as though the bed had suddenly become a battlefield.
"Don't 'Rose' me, you bastard. Do you think that's what I need?"
"I'm sorry," Jack began again. "You're always sorry. That's all
I've heard for a year now. Did you know it's been a year? I've
been keeping track!"
"You didn't have to do that." "Didn't I? Why not? So you'd never
have to know how long it's been since you made love to your wife?
So you wouldn't have to know how long it's been since you acted
rhke a man?"
'"That's enough, Rose," Jack said. "It's not enough," she shot
back, her voice rising. "It won't be enough till you get through
this thing, whatever it is. Look at me. Aren't I attractive any
moreT" She stripped the nightgown off and stood before him,
naked, the moonlight streaming through the window to bathe her
pale form in an almost metallic hue, the high breasts jutting out
above the narrow waist, the full hips tapering into her long,
lithe legs.
"Well," she demanded as Jack stared at her. "What about it? Have
I turned into some sort of pig?" Jack shook his head, saying
nothing. "Well then, what is it? What's happened to you? If it
isn't me, it must be you. What's wrong with you, Jack?"
Again he shook his head. "I I can't tell you, Rose. I'm not sure
I know." "Then shall I tell you?" There was a note of malevolence
in her voice that frightened him. He moved back a step, then sank
into a chair, waiting. Rose began pacing the room, her eyes wild.
She seemed to be casting about, wondering where to start, and for
a second Jack waited, trying to fathom the direction from which
the attack would come.
"It's the money, isn't it?" she demanded. Safe, he

44

thought. "You just can't stand the idea that the fortune's gone,
can you? That you, the last of the Congers, actually has to work,
not for the fun of it, but for the money?" She stared at him as
if waiting for a defense, then plunged on. "Well, when are you
going to learn that it doesn't matter? There's enough left to pay
the taxes on this place, though God knows why we even need it,
and between us we certainly make enough to pay for whatever we
need. It's not as ff we were poor, for God's sake. And even if we
were, so what? You don't have to be rich to be a man, damn ifl"
He sat silently, knowing what was coming next. Rose didn't
disappoint him.
"Or is it me? Do you feel like I've cut your balls off by making
more money than you do? I happen to be good at my job, Jack, and
you should be proud of that. But not you! Oh, no! You take it as
some kind of personal threat to your manhood. Christ, I begin to
understand what all those liberationists are talking about. You
do resent a successful woman. Well, let me tell you something. Do
you want to know why I went to work in the first place? I was
bored, Jack, just plain bored."
"Rose, we've been all through this" "And we'll go through it
again." Suddenly she sank onto the bed, her rage spent. "We'll go
through it till we get to the bottom of it." The tears started,
and Rose buried her face in her hands. "I don't know how much
more I can stand, Jack. I really don't. I'm sorry I said I was
bored. It wasn't that. I was really just frustrated." She looked
up, as ff imploring him to understand. "Jack, it's terrible to
love a man who doesn't love you."
"That's not it, Rose," he said soffiy. "I love you very much. I
always have."
She sighed. "Well, it's a strange way you show it. I don't know
what to do. Sometimes I think it would help if I quit my job. But
it's too late for that now." She smiled thinly. "Do you know what
it's like to be

45

successful? It's intoxicating. You want more, and more. And I'm
going to have more, Jack. I don't get anything at home any more,
so I have to have some fulfiliment somewhere else."
"ff it's that bad," Jack said dully, "why are you still here?"
She stared at him, and there was a hardness in her eyes that
frightened him. "Someone," she said slowly, "has to protect the
children. Since you don't qualify, that leaves me, doesn't it?"
His blow fell so fast that she had no time to move with it. His
fist struck her hard on the cheek, and the force of the blow
knocked her flat out on the bed, but she didn't cry out. Instead,
she touched the bruise gently and stared up at him. "At least I'm
fairly close to your size," she said softly.
He stared at her, then at his hand, and it seemed like an
eternity. before he realized what he had done. 'My God," he
breathed. He went to the bathroom and ran the water until it was
cold. Then he soaked a washcloth and brought it to her, handing
it to Rose to press against her cheek, knowing that she wouldn't
let him touch her now.
"I didn't mean to do that." "Didn't you?" Her voice was listless,
as if nothing mattered. "I suppose you don't mean to do a lot of
things you do."
"Rose, that isn't fair." "Life isn't fair, Jack. Leave me alone."
He got up to leave the room. "Maybe it's the curse," he said,
trying to keep his voice light. "Maybe the old family curse has
finally caught up with me."
"Maybe it's caught up with both of us," Rose said miserably. She
watched him leave the bedroom, and wanted to call him back,
wanted to hold him and be held by him. But she couldn't. She
turned off the light, rolled over, and tried to sleep.

46

Jack sank into his chair in the study and took a sip of the drink
in his hand. Hc stared moodily out the window, watching the play
of moonlight and shadows on the branches of the maple trees that
broke the clean sweep of lawn from the house to the edge of the
cliff beyond. The cliff looked inviting, but Jack knew that that
was not one of the things that happened when he drank. Often he
wished it were.
The memory was still not clear. Perhaps it never would be, sodden
as it was in alcohol.
Rose was right; it was just about a year. It had been a Sunday,
and it must have been a little over a year ago, for the leaves
were still on the trees, glowing gold and red. Rose had gone off
for a game of golf who with? He couldn't remember. There was so
much of that day he couldn't remember. He had been drinking,
which wasn't unusual for a Sunday, and in the afternoon he had
decided to go for a walk. With Sarah.
And then it was foggy. They had started off across the field, and
Sarah had run ahead, calling to him to hurry. But he hadn't
hurried, and she had waited for him. They had talked, there in
the field, but he couldn't remember what they had talked about.
And then Sarah had asked him to take her to the woods. There were
so many things in the woods she wanted to see, and
· she never got to go there. And so they had gone to the woods.
He remembered carrying her out of the woods, but that was all.
He listened to the clock strike, and watched the shadows dance on
the window. It was an ugly dance, and he didn't want to watch it.
He looked at his drink, and tried to force himself not to refill
it.
Sarah slept restlessly, and the dream swept over her again, as it
did every night, over and over, never ending.
She was in a room, and the room was big. There

47

was nothing in the room except Sarah and her toys. But she didn't
want to play with them. Then Daddy was there, and they were going
out of the house together and into the field. She ran ahead of
him and stopped to look at a flower. There was an ant on the
flower, and she picked the flower to take back to her daddy. But
she knew that if she tried to carry it, the
ant would fall off. So she called him, "Daddy! Hurry!"
But he hadn't hurried, and she had waited for him. When he was
finally there, the ant was gone, and the flower too, blown out of
her hand on a gust of wind. It had gone to the forest, and she
wanted to find it.
"The fiower's in the woods, Daddy. Take me to the woods."
And-so they went to the woods, and her daddy was holding her
hand. She felt safe.
They stepped out of the sunlight of the field into the deep
shadow of the trees, and Sarah held her hther's hand even
fighter. She looked around for the flower, and saw a bush. The
flower was in the bush. She was sure the flower was in the bush,
and the ant would be there too.
She pulled her father toward the bush. "Hurry, Daddy, hurry.
We're almost there."
And then she was there, crawring under the bush, its branches
catching at her hair, thorns reaching out to scratch at her. Then
she felt something grab at her ankle. A vine. It must have been a
vine. She fled to shake loose, but the thing held fighter to her
ankle and began pulling her from the bush. She couldn't find the
flower. Wait! There it was. If she could only grab it!
But she couldn't, and the thing was pulling her out of the bush.
She cried out.
"Daddy! Help! Make it let go, Daddy!"
She twisted around, and the thing was Daddy. But it wasn't Daddy.
It was someone else, and he looked like Daddy, but it couldn't be
Daddy. Not this man

48

with his wild look. This man who was going to hit her.
She felt the blow, and tried to cry out to her father to help
her, but she had no voice. Her father would help her.
Her father hit her.
She wanted her father to pull the man off her. She wanted her
father to stop hitting her. She wanted her father.
The hand moved up and down through the air, and then Sarah
couldn't hear anything any more. She watched herseft being
beaten, but she felt no pain. She tried to get away, but she
couldn't move. As Daddy hit her again and again, she watched
herself fade away. And then there was only the gray, the gray
that she lived in, and in a far corner of the gray a girl a
blond, blue-eyed girl who would take care of her.
Elizabeth. Elizabeth knew what had happened, and would take care
of her. As the gray closed around her, she reached out to
Elizabeth.
Sarah woke up, and the hands that were outstretched moved slowly
back, and she held herseft. When she slept, she dreamed the dream
again.

Elizabeth lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling,' watching the
progress of the moonlight as it moved slowly toward the far wall.
She listened to the s'dence.
She had tried not to hear it; tried to bury her head under her
pillow as her parents fought. But the sounds came through the
walls, under the door, into the bed, and she listened. Finally
she heard her father as he went down the stairs. Now she waited,
and watched the moonlight. She would wait until she heard him
come back up the stairs, until she heard the click of her
parents' door finally closing for the night. Then she would
sleep.
Didn't her mother know what had happened in the woods that day?
Elizabeth knew that she could tell her

49

mother, but that she wouldn't. Elizabeth knew that she shouldn't
know. what had happened. And she also knew she couldn't forget
it, either.
She had been watching them from the house, and had decided to go
with them. She had called to them, but the wind had blown her
words the wrong way and they hadn't heard. So she had followed
them across the field. Then, just as she had been about to catch
up with them, she had decided to play a game with them instead.
She had veered off to the left, toward the road, and cut into the
woods about fifty feet from them. Then she had begun making her
way back, moving from tree to tree, keeping herseft hidden. At
the last minute, when she was so close that they would have to
see her, she would jump out at them.
She had heard a scuffling noise, and peeped around the tree to
see Sarah crawling under a bush. She used the opportunity to dart
closer and hide behind a fallen log, watching her sister through
the tangle of rotting roots that thrust skyward. Sarah had pushed
farther under the bush, and Elizabeth thought her father was
about to crawl after her.
But instead he grasped her ankle and began pulling her back
toward him.
She heard Sarah cry out, and watched as her father lifted his
fist into the air. Suddenly, yanking Sarah free of the bush, he
brought his fist down on her. Sarah screamed then, and turned to
look up at her father.
Elizabeth stayed hidden behind the log, watching the scene before
her with a strange detachment. Suddenly it had all seemed to be
far away from her, not connected to her. She suddenly no longer
saw her sister and her father, but two strangers, a little girl
and a man, and the man was beating the child. And it seemed to
have no effect on Elizabeth at all. She simply crouched there,
watching it unfold before her.
When Sarah finally lay still, Elizabeth saw her

50

father straighten up, and she could barely recognize him. There
was a vacant look in his face, and his black hair, usually so
neatly brushed, hung in damp strings around his face. He looked
around wildly, then down at the child at his feet. She heard a
sob wrack his body, then watched as he picked Sarah up and began
carrying her across the field toward the house. She stayed
perfectly sfdl until her father, sffil carrying her sister, had
disappeared through the front door. Then she stood up and moved
slowly to the spot where her sister had lain. She looked once
more toward the house, then turned and began making her way
through the woods toward the embankment.
When she had returned to the house an hour later, the doctors
were there, and they had taken Sarah away. Her father was nowhere
to be seen, and her mother was hysterical. Mrs. Goodrich had
finally noticed her, and asked her where she had been. She said
she had been for a walk. Down by the quarry. It was the only
thing she had ever said about that afterBeen, and it was the only
thing abe would ever say about it.
Elizabeth continued to stare at the ceiling, and whet, much
later, she heard the click of her parents' door, she slept.

Jack lay in bed, but he still didn't sleep. He remembered what he
could remember.
He remembered the doctors coming, and he remembered them putting
Sarah in the ambulance. He remembered Rose coming home, and he
remembered that someone had given him a shot.
They had flown Sarah to a hospital, a hospital far enough from
Port Arbello that no one would ever have known what had happened
to Sarah. She had been there for three months, and the doctors
had been able to repair her body. The ribs had healed and there
were no longer any scars on her face.

51

But they had not been able to repair her mind. When she had come
home from the hospital, she had been changed. She was no longer
the bright elfin child she had always been. She no longer
laughed, or ran through the house. She no longer shouted, or
played in the field.
She was quiet. She neither spoke nor laughed, and when she moved
she moved slowly, as if something were holding her back.
Occasionally, she screamed.
She seemed to be frightened, but she learned to tolerate the
presence of her mother. She was never left alone with her father.
She responded only to Elizabeth. She would follow Elizabeth
whenever she could, and if Elizabeth could not be with her, she
would sit quietly and wait. But that wasn't often.
Elizabeth was usually with her. Except when they were in school,
Elizabeth spent most of her time with Sarah reading to her,
talking to her, not seeming to notice that Sarah never talked
back. Elizabeth played with Sarah, never losing her patience when
Sarah's interest wandered, always finding something new to
distract Sarah from whatever was going on in her mind.
The doctors said that Sarah could recover someday, but they
didn't know when it would be. Since they didn't know exactly what
had happened to Sarah, and nobody seemed able to tell them, they
weren't entirely sure how to treat her. But someday, they were
sure, Sarah would be able to remember what had happened to her
that day, and face it. When that day came, Sarah would be all
right again. But until that day, Sarah might do anything.
Schizophrenia, they said, was unpredictable.

53

Rose Conger stared across the breakfast table and wondered for
the twentieth time how her husband could drink so much and never
show the etlects of it.
Had he been less engrossed in his morning paper, Jack would have
noticed the look' of annoyance on Rose's face as she studied his
own. At forty, he looked ten years younger, and where the lines
of character, or age, shotrid have begun their march from his
forehead to his jowls, only the smooth skin of youth was present,
still unaifected by the years of drinking. It isn't right, Rose
thought. Any other man would have veins standing on his nose, and
the awful pallor would make him_ look skeletal. But not Jack.
"What time did you come to bed?" she asked.
He looked up, then went back to his paper. "One thirty. Two. I
don't know."
"Would you like some more coffee?"
He put down the paper, and a twisted smile crossed his face.
"Do I look like I need it?"
"I wish you did," Rose said bitterly. "Maybe if it showed on your
face you wouldn't drink so much."
"Oh, come on, Rose. Let's let it alone, shall we? The kids will
be down in a minute." He glanced at his watch, as if the gesture
would bring the girls into the room and rescue him from what he
knew was coming.
"They'll be ten minutes yet," Rose replied. "Jack, what we were
talking about last night..."

54

"Is it going to be the drinking this morning? Why is it, Rose,
that it's always the money at night and the drinking in the
morning? Why don't you, just for the sake of variety, talk about
the drinking at night and the money in the morning? Then maybe we
could both think of something new to say."
Rose glowered down at her plate and tried to keep her voice even.
"i suppose I harbor the vain hope that maybe, if I don't talk
about it at night, you won't do iL You'd think I'd learn,
wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Jack said, "you would." He folded the paper noisily and
tried to concentrate on the print. He read a paragraph, then
reread it as he realized that he hadn't any idea of what it was
about. He was on his third reading when Rose spoke aga'm.
"How long can we go on like this.'/"
He put the paper aside and stared across at her. For a long time
he was silent, and when he spoke his voice was hard.
"What do you mean, 'like this'? If you mean how long until I can
get it up for you again, I don't know. If you mean how long
before I'm going to stop drinking, I don't know. If you mean how
long before you stop harping at me all the time, that's up to
you. I have a strange feeling that I will stop drinking, and
start screwing, when you decide to let the whole thing alone and
give me some peace. There are reasons, you know, why I have
problems, and your nagging doesn't help at all. So why don't you
just leave it alone, Rose? Just leave it alone." He stood up and
left the room, and Rose was amazed to hear the warmth with which
he greeted his' daughters before he left the house. His failure
to slam the door as he left only increased her annoyance. She
poured herself some coffee, and tried to match Iack's warmth as
the girls came into the room.
"You have your choice this morning," she said. "Mrs. Goodrich
says waffles and pancakes are equally easy, so you can have
either one."

55

"We'll have waffles," Elizabeth said. She kissed her mother good
morning and seated herself. Sarah pulled her father's recently
vacated chair around and sat be,side Elizabeth.
"Sarah? Don't you want to sit in your own chair?" There was no
response from the little g/rl. She sat quietly with her hands in
her lap until Elizabeth poured her some orange juice. She picked
it up, dutifully drained the glass, and set it down again. Her
hand went back to her lap. Rose watched in silence, feeling
helpless.
"Sarah,,, she repeated. "Are you sure you don't want to sit in
your own chair?"
Sarah's head turned toward Rose, and she stared at her mother for
a moment. Rose looked vainly into the tiny, dark face, trying to
see if Sarah had understood her. It was like trying to fathom the
feeling of a mask. After a few seconds, Sarah turned her face
away again. A knot formed in Rose's stomach.
"Maybe she'd rather have pancakes,', she said pensirely. "But how
can I know?"
Elizabeth smiled at her mother. 'qThe waffles will do free," she
said. "She likes them. How come Daddy left so early?',
"I guess he had a lot to do at the office," Rose swered
distractedly, her eyes still on her younger daughter. She felt
that there was something she ought to do, something she' ought to
say to Sarah, but she didn't know what it was. She felt confused.
Hurriedly, she put her napkin on the table and stood up.
"I have a lot to do myself," she said. "Can age by yourself,
Elizabeth?,,you man-
"Sure," Elizabeth said, "If I have to leave before the van gets
here, shall I leave Sarah with Mrs. Goodrich?',
"If you think it would be  .... All right" was what
she was about to say, but it struck her that she was the
mother, not Elizabeth, and that even if she did feel al/ at sea
where Sarah was concerned, it was still her duty

56

to be a mother. She should not defer to a thirteen-yearold child,
even one as mature as Elizabeth.
"That will be fine," she corrected herself. "I'll be in my
office. Come in before you leave."
She started to leave the room, then, on an impulse, leaned down
to kiss Sarah. Sarah didn't respond at all, and, the knot in her
stomach tightening, Rose left the room. As she made her way into
the little parlor at the front of the house that she had
converted into an office for herself, she heard Elizabeth
chattering brightly to Sarah, never pausing to give Sarah a
chance to say anything, never sounding annoyed at Sarah's
"Dumbness" was the word that came to mind, but Rose couldn't
bring herself to use it. She avoided the issue completely by
turning her mind to her work.
She pulled out the files she had been working on the previous
afternoon and began checking her figures once more. She found two
errors, and corrected them. She prided herself on her attention
to detail, and had become even more careful as time went on.
Since her first day in the real-estate business she had not
turned in any paperwork that was less than perfect, and she knew
that the men in her office resented it. It had become an unspoken
game, good-natured on her part but played with a slight edge of
envy by the others involved, to give Rose wrong figures and see
how long it would take her to find them. She suspected there was
a pot building that would eventually go to the person who
succeeded in catching her in'a mistake. She intended for that pot
to keep on growing till they finally gave it up and either split
it up among themselves or handed it all over to her. She finished
the files just as Elizabeth came in.
"That time already?" she said.
"I told Kathy Burton I'd meet her before school. Sarah's in the
kitchen with Mrs. G."
"Will you be home right after school?" "Aren't I always?"

57

Rose smiled at her daughter appreciatively, and held out her
arms. Elizabeth came to her mother and hugged her.
"You're a great help to me, you know," Rose whispered to her.
Elizabeth nodded her head briefly and freed herself. "See you
tonight," she said. Rose watched as she pulled the door closed
behind her, and turned to gaze out the window. In a moment she
heard the front door open and close, then saw Elizabeth, pulling
a coat on, skip down the steps and start the walk to the Point
Road.
Rose went back to her work, thumbing through her listings and
mentally pairing off houses with clients. She had discovered that
she had a knack for picking the right house for the right person,
and her reputation was spreading. She made it a practice to spend
at least a couple of hours with each client, talking about
everything but houses. Then, when she felt she knew something
about her client, she would pull out her listings and give them a
couple to look over. Finally she would pull out her own choice
for them, and she was usually right. More and more, lately,
people had begun to come to her, not so much to see what she had
available as to ask her what she thought they ought to have. It
was making her work much easier, and her volume much larger.
One more year, she thought, and I'll get my broker's license.
Then, watch out, Port Arbello. Mother Conger is on the rise.
She was only half aware that the little Ford van that served as a
school bus had arrived to take Sarah to White Oaks School, and
didn't look up from her work
until she heard the tapp'mg at her door. "Come in," she called.
The door opened, and Mrs. Goodrich, looking re senttiff at having
to intrude on Rose, stuck her head in.
"Sorry to bother you," she said, the deep Yankee voice rumbling
from her immense bosom. "Mr. Diller

58

wonders if he could have a word with you. I told him you were
busy, but he wonders anyway." Her tone suggested that it was her
strongly held opinion that ff Mr. Diller had any sense of
propfiery whatsoever, he would have faded directly into the
ground upon being told that Mrs. Conger was busy.
Rose suppressed a grin and did her best to impersonate the grande
dame that Mrs. Goodrich obviously expected her to be. For a long
time, when she had firstcome to live in the Conger house, Mrs.
Goodrich had frightened her to death, and she had been painfully
aware that she did not meet the standards that Mrs. Goodrich had
set for the senior Mrs. Conger4n-residence. But she had
eventually come to realize that, whatever she did, Mrs. Goodrich
would see her as Mrs. Goodrich wanted to see her. In the last
couple of years Rose had found a certain enjoyment in trying to
play the role. So now, for the benefit of the old housekeeper,
she stood up, drew herself as erect as she could, and tried to
sound imperious.
"It's unusual that he should call without an appointment, isn't
it?" Mrs. Goodrich nodded a vigorous agreement.
"But I suppose it would bb useless to try to send him away."
Again Mrs. Goodrich nodded vigorously. "So I suppose you may show
him in." The door dosed, and in a moment it reopened to allow
George Diller to enter. Rose promptly relaxed and smiled at him,
He was a little younger than she, and sported a full beard. He
was one of the teachers at the White Oaks School, but since he
seemed to have a special way with the children he taught, he also
drove the van that picked them up and delivered them home every
day. The school had tried other drivers, but things always seemed
to go better when George Diller drove, as ff the children,
trusting him, tried to behave better for him.

59

"What was that all about7" he said, glancing back toward the
door. "You heard?" Rosxe replied, chuckling. "You sounded just
like my Aunt Agatha, down in Boston. She could order a servant to
kill himself, and he wouldn't dare disobey. Fortunately for
everyone, she never did." "Mrs. Goodrich would have loved your
Aunt Agatha. She's convinced that's the way a proper lady should
rllv" talk, so I do my best for her. It's kind of fun,  -a.
"Well, it almost scared me off. But not quite." "That's good.
Would you like some coffee?" "Not enough time. The kids won't
wait long." Rose glanced out the window and saw Sarah climbing
into the front seat of the van. In the back, six or seven
children stared out at her, and she could see that one or two of
them were already getting restless. "Then what can I do for youT"
Rose asked. "Nothing for me. It's about Sarah. It isn't anything
serious, but the staff at the school would like you and Mr.
Conger to come in for a talk." "Oh?" Rose looked concerned, and
George hurried On. "Really, it's nothing. I think they're
thinking of making some changes in Sarah's program, and they want
to talk to you first." Rose nodded. "Of course. Is there' any
time that's best for the school?" She moved to the desk and
opened her calendar. "Not really." George shrugged. "Afternoons
are best, after the kids have gone home, but ff you don't have
time, we can always work around you." Rose knew they could. White
Oaks was a very expensive school, and had a policy of going out
of their way both for their students and the families of their
students. Consequently, they found that they very rarely had to
go out of their way. Parents, realizing that the school would do
what it could for them, tried to do

60 

what they could for the school. So Rose searched for a free
afternoon, and picked up a pencil. "How's Thursday? Of course,
I'll have to check with my husband, but I imagine he can get
away." "Fine," George said. "About four?" 'Tll mark it right now
-" Rose broke off as she a little cry from the front of the
house. She up, and for a moment she didn't see anything Then she
saw it: The van was moving. "George!" she yelled. "Quick! The
van!" i! Without asking any questions, George headed for the.
door, It stuck, and he grappled with it for a moment. Rose was
still staring out the window. The van was moving slowly, but it
was picking up speed on the slight incline that led to the
garage. She judged that if it hit the garage, it would stop with
little damage. But if it missed the garage. Her eyes moved across
the wide lawn, and the unobstructed path that led directly to the
edge of the cliff. "The door," George yelled. "It's stuck!"
"Push down," Rose snapped. "It jams at the top." She glanced out
the window again, and the van seemed to be veering a little to
the left. It would miss the garage. She heard George grunt, and
spun to see him still struggling with the door. Behind her she
could hear the terrified screams of the children as they realized
what was happening. "Let me do it," she cried, pushing him aside
and grasping the knob. She lunged at the door and gave a quick
yank. It flew open, and George was through it and running for the
front door, a few feet away. In the middle of the doorway, Mrs.
Goodrich stood frozen, her hand covering her mouth as if to
stifle a scream. George shoved her aside, and she would have
fallen if Rose hadn't moved quickly to catch her.
"It's all right," Mrs. Goodrich snapped. "Don't worry about me.
Help Mr. Diller."

 61

But it was obvious that there was nothing she could do. She
watched as George raced after the coasting van. From where she
stood it appeared that even if he caught up with it, he wouldn't
have any way of stopping it before it shot off the edge of the
cliff.
The ddver's door was flapping w'ddly as George caught up with the
van. He hurled himself into the driver's seat, and his left hand
groped for the emergency brake as his right hand pulled the wheel
around. He felt the rear wheels lock, and the van pulled around
to the left and began to skid. There was nothing more he could
do. He held his breath and waited. Behind him, the children
screamed wildly, except for Sarah, who sat placidly in the front
passenger's seat, staring out of the window.
It stopped only inches from the edge. If the door hadn't been
open, George thought but then he realized that there were too
many ifs. He sat behind the wheel and waited for his nerves to
calm down. By the time he was ready to begin guiding the children
out of the van, Rose was there. One by one, they got the children
out of the van, and Rose led them up to the house. Mrs. Goodrich,
having seen that the van didn't go over the edge, had already
disappeared into the kitchen. By the time all the children were
safely in the house, she had produced a pitcher of hot cocoa.
Rose left the children in her charge and went back to the van.
George had climbed into the driver's seat again,
and was preparing to jockey it away from the precipice. "Be
careful," Rose warned him.
With Rose waving him directions, he eased the van inward from the
edge and, when it was far enough back, turned it around. He
called to Rose to join him, and eased the vehicle back up to the
driveway. When he parked it, he carefully left it in gear and
checked ' the hand brake twice.
"What happened?" Rose asked him as they re,entered the house.

62 

George shook his' head. "I don't know. I must have forgotten to
set the brake. But I was sure I had. It's almost a reflex with
me." He thought a moment, then shook his head. "I can almost see
myself setting it, but I must not have."
An hour later, with the children calm once more, George Diller
herded them all back into the van. If Rose noticed that George
made sure that Sarah was in the back seat this time, she didn't
comment on it. She simply stood on the porch and watched the van
make its way down the driveway. Then she returned to her office
and tried to concentrate on her work. It wasn't

George Diller drove even more carefully than usual on his way
back to the school, and he kept one eye on the rear-view mirror.
But it wasn't the road behind him that he was watching. It was
the children. Particularly, he watched Sarah Conger.
She sat in the back seat, and as they drove along the Conger's
Point Road she seemed to be looking for something. Then George
remembered. Every morning the van passed Elizabeth Conger as she
walked into town to school. And every morning Elizabeth waved to
Sarah as the van passed.
But this morning they were too late. There was no one to wave to
Sarah.
At the end of the day Mrs. Montgomery would note in her records
that Sarah Conger had been much more difficult than usual. It was
One more thing she would have to talk to Sarah's parents about.

5

Rose glanced at her watch as she left the house; she had just
enough time to stop at Jack's office and still not be late for
her appointment. As she walked to the garage, she glanced at the
scars on the lawn, and shuddered once more at the memory of the
van careening toward the cliff. She wondered if she should have
kept Sarah home for the day, and felt a slight twinge of guilt at
the relief she had felt when George Diller had insisted that it
would be better for Sarah to continue the day as if nothing
unusual had happened. She made a mental note to devote a httle
extra time to Sarah that evening.
A quarter of a mile t. oward town, Rose smiled to herself as she
passed the old Barnes place. She had a feeling that today, as she
drove home, she would be able to take down the FOR SALE sign that
had been hanging on the fence for months. And it's a good thing,
she thought. It's been on the market too long. Another couple of
months and it would take on that awful deserted look and be
'mapossible to sell at any price. But she had a feeling that she
finally had the right customers for the house. Unconsciously, she
pressed the accelerator, and as the car leaped forward some of
the feeling of depression that had been hanging over her all
morning dissipated.
She slipped the car into her space behind Port Arbello Realty
Company, and dropped her purse on her desk as she walked through
to the front door.

64 

"You have an appointment in fifteen .minutes," the receptionist
reminded her. Rose smiled at the girl.
"Plenty of time. I'm just going to run across the square for a
minute and say hello to Jack." She knew she could as easily have
telephoned, but she liked to keep up the charade of devoted wife.
In Port Arbello, solid marriages counted for a lot in the
business community.
On her way across the square she glanced quickly at the old
armory, standing forbiddingly on the corner just south of the
courthouse. Another year, she thought, and I'll find a way to buy
it. Then it would be a simple matter of a zoning variance, and
she could go ahead with her plan to turn it into a shopping
center not one that would compete with the businesses already
surrounding the square, nothing with a major department store.
Rather, she envisioned a group of small shops boutiques, really,
though she hated the word-with a good restaurant and a bar. 'That
way, she could increase the value of the property without taking
any business from the rest of the merchants. In her mind's eye
she saw the armory as she would remodel it: sandblasted, its
century-old brick cleaned of the years of grime, with white trim,
and a few changes in the fa9ade to give it an inviting look
instead of the grim air with which it had always looked down on
the town around it.
She jaywalked across the street to the Courier and went in.
"Hi, Sylvia." She smiled. "Is my husband in?"
Jack's secretary returned her smile. "He's in, but he's a bear
today. What did you do to him this morning?"
"Just the usual," Rose said. "Tied him up and thrashed him. He
squalls, but he loves it." Without knocking, Rose let hdrself
into her husband's office, closing the door behind her, and
crossed to his desk, leaned over, and kissed him warmly.

65

"Hello, darling," she said, her eye not missing the fact that the
intercom was open. "I hear you're having a bad day." As Jack
looked at her in puzzlement, she pointed to the intercom unit on
his desk. He nodded and switched it off.
"You seem cheerful enough," he said sourly.
"I am, now. But we almost had a disaster this morning." She
recounted what had happened with the van.
"George is sure he set the brake?" Jack said when she had
finished.
Rose nodded; "But he must not have. If he did, then there's only
one explanation for what happened. Sarah." Jack seemed to lose a
little of his color.
"So the school wants to talk to us about her on Thursday
afternoon?" He made a note on his calendar.
"Not about what happened this morning," Rose said quickly.
"Although I should imagine that will come up too. My God, Jack,
they all would have been killed. Not one of them would have had a
chance."
"And you really think Sarah might have released the brake?"
"I don't know what to think," Rose said uncertainly. "I suppose
I'm trying not to think at all until we talk to the school."
"I could take the rest of the day off," Jack offered. i'We could
play a round of golf."
Rose smiled, but shook her head. "If you want to, go ahead. But
not me. I have an appointment that I'm almost late for, and I
think it's going to be a good one. I'm going to try to sell the
Barnes place. If I can pull that off, it will do a lot more for
me than a game of golf." She stood up. "For some reason, work
seems to relax me."
"I wish it did the same for me," Jack replied. He didn't get up,
and Rose felt a surge of anger that he wouldn't play the game
with her. "Send Sylvia in as you leave, will you?"

66 

Rose started to make a reply, then changed her mind. Silently,
she left the office, forcing her face into a cheerful expression
for Sylvia Bannister's benefit.
"He is a bear," she said to Sylvia. "And he wants you in his den.
Got to run." Without waiting for the secretary to speak, Rose
left the building and hurried across the square. By the time she
had reached her own office, she had put her personal life back
into its compartment, and was ready to greet her clients.

"So that's about it," Rose said a couple of hours later. "As far
as I can tell, these are the only three houses in Port Arbello
that come anywhere close to what you're looking for. I could show
you more, but I'd only be wasting your time. Why don't we start
with these two, and save this one for last." She picked up the
listing for the Barnes property, tucked it beneath the other two,
and stood up.
"Can we all fit in your car, or shall we follow you?" Carl
Stevens asked.
"Let's take mine. That way I can give you a running commentary on
the town. If you want all the dirt, you'll have to talk to my
husband. I've only been here twenty years, and the people don't
really trust me yet."
Barbara Stevens grinned at her. "That's why I love towns like
this. If you weren't born here, people leave you alone. And you
can't paint if people won't leave you alone."
They left the office, and Rose followed through on her promise.
It wasn't true that she didn't have the dirt; every time she sold
a house, its owners gave her a complete history of the house in
question and the immediate vicinity. Rose knew who had slept with
whom, who had gone crazy, and who had done "odd things" in every
part of Port Arbello for the past fifty years. But she never
passed the information on to clients. Instead, she stuck to her
business. Where other real-estate people pointed out the house
where they'd

 67

found old Mr. Crockett hanging in the attic, Rose pointed out the
fact that the school was only two blocks from the property she
was showing. Consequently, she got the sales.
She ushered the Stevenses quickly through the first two houses on
her list. They were noncommittal, and she didn't push thb
properties. Then she turned onto the Conger's Point Road.
"Any relation?" Carl Stevens asked as he read the sign.
"We are the last of the Congets," Rose said, doing her best not
to sound pretentious, and succeeding. "Unless I manage to produce
a son, there soon won't be any Congets at all on Conger's Point
Road."
"I think it would be wonderful to live on a road that was named
after you," Barbara said.
Rose nodded. "I have to say I sort of get a kick out of it. From
what I can gather, this road used to be practically the family
driveway. My husband's family used to own practically everything
between the town and the Point. But that was a hundred years ago.
It's been built up for years. We still live on the Point, but the
road passes us now. Sort of symbolic: The road used to end at our
doorstep, but now it passes us by."
"You're a philosopher," Carl said. "Which side of the Point is
the property that we're going to?"
"This side, but barely. As a matter of fact, if I can sell it to
you, we'll be neighbors. The Barnes place adjoins ours. But don't
worry, the houses are a quarter of a mile apart, and there's a
strip of woods, a field, and some water between them. The Barnes
place is on the mainland; we're out at the end of the Point. Here
we are," she finished. She braked the car and turned in to the
long drive that led to the old house. She heard Barbara suck in
her breath, and wondered how long an escrow they'd want.
"My Lord," Carl said. "How big is it?"
"Not as big as it looks," Rose said. "It's an odd


68 

house, but I think you'll like it. Besides, if you don't, you can
always change it. The first time I saw it, it struck me that an
architect should have it. No one else could make it livable."
"What's wrong with it?" Barbara asked.
"Nothing, really," Rose said. She was parking the car in front of
the building now, and she pointed to what appeared to be a pair
of long, enclosed galleries, one above the other, that ran the
length of the house. "See those?"
"Don't tell me," Carl said. "Let me guess. You go in the front
door, and there's an entry hall that goes straight through the
house. On each side of the entry hall there's a staircase, and
the two staircases meet above the front door. From there, a hall
extends the length of the house in both directions."
:Rose nodded. "That's it exactly. With another hall on the bottom
floor. It gives the place the feeling of an immense railroad
parlor car. Every room has one door onto the hall. There's an
incredible view of the ocean, but only from the far side of the
house. And I don't have any idea at all of what to do about it.
That's one of the reasons I brought you out here. Even if you
don't buy it, I can get some ideas on what to do with it in case
somebody else does."
They went into the house and explored it room by room, first the
lower floor, then the upper. Rose, following her instincts, did
little more than identify the use to which the Barnoses had put
each room. Finally they were back in the entry hall.
"Well?" Rose said. Carl and Barbara Stevens looked at each other.
"It does have some problems," Carl mused.
"And they'd be expensive problems, wouldn't they?" Barbara added.
"Not expensive," Rose said. "Very expensive. Count on putting in
half again what you pay for it, and that

 69

doesn't include the plumbing. Also, it's going to need
 rewiring within five years, and a new roof in two." "Honest,
aren't you," Carl said with a grin.
Rose shrugged. "If I don't tell you now, you'll tell me later.
And I wouldn't want the next-door neighbors mad at me."
"And they want how much for it?" Rose could see the wheels
clicking in Carl's mind.
"Fifty-two five.. If the floor plan weren't so weird
they could get at least twice that." "Okay," Carl said.
"Okay?" Rose repeated. "What does 'okay' mean?" Barbara lauohed.
"It means 'Okay, we'll buy it.'" "At the asking price?" Rose said
vacantly. "At the asking price."
Rose shook her head. "You're both crazy. You asked me how much
they wanted for it, not how much I thought you could get it for.
Don't you want to make them a lower offer?"
"Not particularly," Carl said.
"I see," Rose said numbly. "What am I saying? I don't see at all.
If you don't mind my saying this, you're taking all the fun out
of it for me. I get paid to write offers and counteroffers, and
make everybody think he got a good deal. I've never heard of
selling a house for the asking price. In fact, I know darn well
you could get it for less."
Barbara nodded. "But it would take time. We don't want to wait.
We don't want an escrow, and we don't want to finance it. We'll
write you a check for it today. Can we move in this weekend?"
Rose nodded. "I suppose so," she said slowly. "There's no
mortgage on it, so I guess there isn't anything to it but
transferring the title. That doesn't take any time at all."
Carl began laughing. "You look like .we've just spoiled your
entire day. Let's go back to your office

70 

and get this thing settled. Then we'll go home and pick up Jeff
and bring him out here. He'll love the place. He loves the ocean,
and he loves climbing. That bluff should make him very happy."
Again Rose nodded. "Something's wrong," she said. "Selling a
house like this isn't supposed to be this easy. Why are you in
such a hurry to move in?"
"We're in a hurry," Barbara said, "because we've been looking for
a house for a year, we know exactly what we want, we have the
money to buy it and the talent to fix it, and it's just what
we're looking for. Also, Jeff is fourteen years old, and we want
to get him started in school before it gets too far into the
year. In another month all the cliques for this year will be
formed, and Jeff will be out in the cold till next fall. So if we
can't move in next weekend, we probably won't move in at all. Can
you arrange it?"
"Sure," Rose said. "There isn't anything to arrange. Like I said,
you've taken all the fun out of it for me."
"Well," Carl said, "we'll do our best to make it up tO yOU."
On the way back to town, Rose decided she liked the Stevenses.

Martin Forager stood in front of Jack Conger's desk, his eyes
blazing. He kept his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his
plaid hunting jacket.
"I'm telling you, Conger," he Was saying, "it's a disgrace. It's
been two days now, and nothing's been done." He turned to stare
out the window. "Nothing," he repeated.
"I'm sure Ray's doing his best," Jack began. Forager whirled.
"His best ain't good enough. I don't know what happened to my
daughter, but I want to know-.".
Jack looked up helplessly. Martin Forager was a big man. He had
planted his, fists on Jack's desk and was leaning over him,
glowering.

71

"I don't see what I can do," Jack said quietly. "You can use your
paper," Forager snapped. "That's what you can do. You can use it
to light a fire under Ray Norton. Let him know that if he doesn't
do something, and do it fast, the people of this town are going
to get rid of him."
"I hardly think " Jack started to say.
"I hardly think," Forager mimicked. "It didn't happen to your
daughter, so why would you hardly think anything?"
Jack fought hard to control his temper. He began again.
"Just exactly what do you think happened to Anne?" he asked.
"Someone " Martin Forager hesitated. "Did some-
thing to her," he finished lamely. "Did what?" Jack asked.
Forager began to look uncomfortable. "Well I don't know, really.
But the doctor said . . ."
"The doctor said nothing much happened to her," Jack said firmly.
"He told me so himself, at your request. He examined her
thoroughly, and apart from a few bruises, which she could have
gotten in any one of a number of ways, she isn't hurt. She
certainly wasn't molested." He continued quickly, seeing the
blood drain from Martin Forager's face. "I know, you never said
she was, but that's what you've been thinking." He dropped his
hands into his lap and slumped back in his chair. "Hell, Marty,
that's what we've all been thinking. But apparently nothing
happened. And you know how kids are. She came home late. Mayb
nothing at all happened, and she made the whole thing up." He
held up a hand as he saw Forager's temper begin to build again.
"Don't start up again, Martin. If the doctors report showed
anything, anything at all I could get a handle on, I'd be raising
as big a stink as you. But it doesn't. Unless Anne starts talking
about

72 

what happened to her, there's nothing any of us can do."
Forager glared at him for a moment. "You mean like Sarah talks
about what happened to her?" he snarled. He turned away, and was
out of Jack's office before he could see the effect of his words.
Jack remained in his chair, waiting for his hear to stop
pounding. He was shaking.
When Sylvia Bannister came into the inner office a few minutes
later, Jack hadn't moved. Sylvia started to put a file on the
desk in front of him, but stopped when she saw his face.
"Jack?" she said. "Jack, are you all right?"
"I don't know, Syl," Jack said quietly. "Why don't you close the
door and sit down." He looked up at her. "If you have time?"
"I always have time," Sylvia replied, closing the door. She sat
down in the chair in front of the desk and lit a cigarette. The
beginnings of a smile came over Jack's face.
"That's almost automatic, isn't it?" he said. "What is?" she
said, glancing around.
"The cigarette. Haven't you ever noticed that you never light a
cigarette in here when you know it's business, but you aiways
light one when you know it's just going to be us talking? It's as
though you use the cigarette to change roles from secretary to
friend."
"Does it bother you?" Sylvia asked anxiously, looking at the
cigarette with an embarrassment that was not like her. Jack shook
his head.
"Not at all. I kind of enjoy it. It reassures me that you can
read me like a book."
Sylvia relaxed again. "Then I'll try not to remember it every
time I do it. You shouldn't have mentioned it; now I'll be
self-conscious about it."
"Not you." Jack grinned. "You're the least self-conscious person
I've ever met."
"Well," Sylvia said shortly, beginning to feel that

73

Jack was avoiding whatever it was he wanted to talk about.
"Instead of talking about my many, varied, and questionable
virtues, why don't we talk about you? What happened?"
Jack shrugged. "I'm not sure anything did, really. Martin Forager
just said something to me that shook me. Something about Sarah."
Sylvia drew on her cigarette and let the smoke out slowly,
choosing her words. "Exactly what did he say?" she said softly.
Jack recounted the conversation he had just had. When he was
finished, Sylvia reflected quietly before she spoke.
"I think that's what's called a shot in the dark, Jack. He didn't
even know what he was saying," she continued, as Jack looked
unconvinced. "Jack, nobody in this town, including you, your
wife, or me, knows what happened to Sarah. Nobody knows. But you
havo to face it. Sarah doesn't talk any more, and she goes to
White Oaks, and everybody in town knows what kind of school it
is. So there's bound to be speculation, and some of it's bound to
focus on you."
Jack nodded. "I know. Just one more thing to worry about."
"One more7 What else is there?"
"Well, there's the situation between Rose and me." Sylvia wasn't
at all sure she wanted to hear any more, but she knew she would.
If only I wasn't so damned-fond-of him, she thought. She had
almost used the word "love," but had shied away from it. Yet she
knew there wasn't any use in shying. away from it. She did love
Jack Conger, and she knew it. Not that it made any difference.
She had come to grips with being in love with her boss a long
time ago, and it helped to know that he loved her too, in a
certain way. Not a sexual way. That he had always reserved for
Rose, and Sylvia was just as happy that he did. She wasn't sure
she could handle an affa'r, and she was very sure that she didn't
want to try. She liked things the way they were. In the

72

office, she and Jack were close. They moved from a business
relationship to a personal one and back again many times each
day, and each was in tune with the moods and feelings of the
other. It was, she supposed, like a marriage in some ways, except
that it lasted only eight hours a day. Each afternoon Jack went
home to his family, and she went home to her eat. For eight hours
a day she had a job she loved and a man she loved. It was usually
enough. But sometimes, like right now, she wished he wouldn't
tell her everything, that he would hold back a little of himself
from her. On the other hand, she knew that for the past year he
really hadn't had anybody else. Not since the day he had cartied
Sarah out of the woods.
"Are things getting worse?" she said.
"I'm not sure if 'worse' is the word. What's your definition of
'worse'? Rose is starting to hate me, but why shouldn't she? My
drinking seems to be getting a little worse, but not so you could
notice. And then there's Sarah. Sylvia," he said, and the
desperation in his voice was almost tangible. "Why can't I
remember what happened that day?"
"You were drunk," Sylvia said. "People black out sometimes." She
put it bluntly, but her tone held no condemnation, only
understanding.
"But rye never blacked out before," he said. "Never. It makes me
wonder exactly what I did to her in the woods. What did I do that
I won't let myself remember7"
Sylvia lit another cigarette, and when she spoke her voice was
gentle. "Jack, what's the use of killing yourself over it? If
you'd done what you think you did, the doctors would have known
immediately. There would have been some kind of damage to" she
groped for a word, then decided that he might as well hear it out
loud "her vagina. You didn't rape her, Jack."
The word hit him like a physical blow. "I never thought "

 75

"Yes you did," Sylvia interrupted him. "That's exactly what you
thought, and it's exactly what you've always thought. And if you
want the truth, that's probably what's at the root of your
worries. Maybe Rose thinks it has to do with money and liquor. I
don't know what she thinks, and frankly, I don't care. It's what
you think that counts. And you think you raped Sarah. Well, you
didn't, and you can't keep torturing yourself by thinking you
did. It's over, Jack, and you've got to forget it. Maybe if you
can forget it, you can stop drinking."
Jack avoided her eyes, staring instead at the blotter on his
desk. He saw the note on the calendar, the note reminding him to
go to White Oaks on Thursday afterBoon.
"It's hard to forget it," he said, "when I have to face Sarah
every day."
Sylvia nodded. "Of course it is. That's why the doctors suggested
that she be institutionalized for a while. It wasn't just for
her, you know. It was for you, too. 'It's hard to forget
something when you're faced with reminders every day.
Particularly reminders like Sarah."
"I can't put her away," Jack said miserably. "Not after what I
did to her."
Sylvia came around behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.
She felt the knots in the muscles, and began working to relax
them.
"You're too hard on yourself, Jack," she said softly. "Much too
hard. Let it go." But she knew he wouldn't.


6

Neither of them spoke until Rose turned the car into the gates of
the White Oaks School. Before them, an expanse of well-tended
lawn rolled gently up a rise dotted with maple trees. A gardener
rode back and forth across the leaf-strewn grounds on a midget
tractor, his progress marked by exposed strips of lawn. Here and
there stood piles of leaves, some of them intact, others already
scattered by the group of children moving from one pile to the
next, systematically rescattering the leaves. The gardener seemed
not to notice but drove patiently onward. Rose smiled at the
scene, but it only depressed Jack.
"I love this place," Rose said. "It's so beautiful, no matter
what season it is." When she heard no response from her husband,
she continued. "I should think it would be good for the children,
just being in a place like this."
"If they even know where they are," Jack said flatly. "You'd
think the gardener would get upset with them, wouldn't you?"
"I suppose they hired him partly because he doesn't get upset,"
Rose replied. "I don't suppose it's an easy place to work. I
admire the people who can do it."
"I certainly couldn't," Jack said. "I don't see how any of the
people here can stand it. Look over there."
He pointed across the lawn to a spot wher6 a small boy, not more
than six or seven, sat under a tree. He had found a stick and was
methodically tapping the

78

trunk of the tree with it, with the regularity of a metronome.
Rose stopped the car, and they watched him. He simply sat there,
beating a steady rhythm on the tree trunk.
"The poor child," Rose whispered, after several silent minutes
had .passed. "What do you suppose he thinks about? What do you
suppose makes him that way?"
"Who knows," Jack said uncomfortably. He watched the boy for a
while, and finally his expression softened. "I'm sorry, Rose," he
said. "I don't really hate this place. It's just that it makes me
feel so -so helpless. I see all these children, and they all seem
to be part of another world, a world I can't touch. And it tears
me apart to think my own daughter is part of this world."
Rose reached across the front seat and squeezed his hand. She put
the car in gear again, and they moved toward the main building.
Behind them, the boy still sat beneath the tree, slowly tapping
at its trunk.
Dr. Charles Belter stood up as they came into his office, and
came out from behind his desk to greet them.
"Mr. Conger," he said warmly, his hand extended. "Mrs. Conger.
I'm glad you could both be here. You'd be surprised how hard it
sometimes is for us to get even one parent out here, let alone
both. Of course, some of the parents have a difficult time being
here, simply because of the nature of our work." He looked
carefully from Rose to Jack, and noted the response to his
comment that showed in Jack's face. And you, Mr. Conger, are one
of those parents, he said to himself. Aloud he invited them to
make themselves comfortable, and told them that Sarah's teacher
would be joining them in a couple of minutes.
Charles Belter was in his late fifties, and had the look that
psychiatrists are supposed to have. He sported an immense beard
(no doubt the model for George

79

Diller's, Rose thought) and a walrus moustache, and still had a
full head of bushy hair that was fast going gray. Behind his
horn-rimmed glasses his blue eyes twinkled with a good humor that
had always made it easy for him to relate to the children with
whom he worked. Indeed, he had done his best for years to try to
emulate Santa Claus, a role he was able to totally realize only
once a year. The rest of the time, he felt the red suit and bells
would be a little too eccentric even for him. Consequently he
contented himself with wearing a red blazer, which he did his
best not to button. He didn't fool anybody.
White Oaks School .had been his dream since the first day he had
seen it, back in the days when it had been a tuberculosis
sanitarium. Like so many similar facilities, the tuberculosis
sanitarium had run out of clients. It was Dr. Charles Belter's
dream that someday he, too, would run out of clients. But the
prospects of that happening were dim, and he looked forward to
spending the rest of his life at White Oaks. Which, he reflected,
was not a bad prospect.
There was a tap at the door; then Marie Montgomery let herself
into the office. Prim and thirtyish, she had a conservative look
that suggested a spinsterish schoolrearm of fifty years earlier.
People who had not seen her work always had reservations about
Marie Montgomery; people who had taken the time to observe her in
action were totally convinced of her abilities. Put her in a
classroom full of disturbed children and her reserve disappeared.
She seemed never to notice the children's peculiarities, and
would work .tirelessly with each of her ten students, seeing
progress where others saw no change, inventing techniques where
none had existed before. It was almost as if, by refusing to
recognize her pupils' limitations, she overcame them. And,
indeed, her pupils always seemed to make more progress than
anyone else's. But now, as



she perched herself in the vacant chair between Dr. Belter and
Rose Conger, she wore a look of concern that went beyond her
normal air of reservation.
"Marie," Dr. Belter said, "we've been waiting for yOU."
She smiled briefly. "I'm sorry. I was delayed for a minute. Oh,
nothing serious," she went on as Dr. Belter's brow rose
questioningly. "Just a matter of discipline. Two of the children
seemed to want to discipline each other. They'll be all right."
"It must be difficult," Jack said.
"Not at all." Mrs. Montgomery was crisp but kind. "Don't forget,
most of the children here don't really know there's anything the
matter with them. They simply have a different standard of
normality. And when you look at the state of the world, who's
really to say they're wrong? Sometimes I watch Jerry tapping that
tree trunk out there, and it occurs to me that that isn't really
such a bad way to spend time. I sometimes wish I had his powers
of concentration. Do you know, he's been working on that same
tree for five months now? I'll be glad when he's finished."
"What's he doing to it?" Jack asked.
Mrs. Montgomery shrugged. "If you can find out, you're doing
better than I am. But I'll know someday. Someday he'll tell me
all about it. When he's ready. In
the meantime, I have other things to keep me busy." "Like Sarah?"
Rose said.
The younger woman nodded. "Like Sarah. i hope you haven't been
too worried. I asked George to make it absolutely clear that
there isn't any emergency. I hope he did."
Rose smiled. "He did. But then we had an emergency of our own. I
suppose he told you about it."
Dr. Belter's face clouded. "Yes," he said. "He did. Needless to
say, that wasn't one of the things we wanted to talk about, since
it hadn't happened when we decided to have this meeting, but I
think "

 gl

"Are you suggesting that Sarah had something to do with it?" Jack
said coldly. "Because if you are "
"I'm not suggesting any such thing," Dr. Better said. "I doubt
that we'll ever find out exactly what happened with the van.
George Diller was sure he set the brake. He might be mistaken.
Sarah, of course, can't tell us anything about it at all. But
from my own observations of her, and from what Marie here tells
me, I'm not going to suggest that Sarah released the brake. At
least not deliberately. For one thing, saying Sarah released the
brake implies several things. First, that she knew what would
happen if She did. In other words, that she knew that ff she
released the brake the van would start to move, and that if the
van started to move it would at best ram into the garage, hurting
several of the Children, and at worst plunge into the sea,
killing everybody in it, including herself. Frankly, we're not at
all sure that in her current state of mind Sarah is capable of
putting all that together. It's possible that she is, of course,
but her performance here doesn't indicate it. Further, we
 don't think she's suicidal, and releasing that brake would
certainly have to be considered a self-destructive gesture."
"In other words," Rose said, "you don't think Sarah released the
brake?"
Dr. Belter smiled wryly. "I wish it were that simple," he said.
"It's entirely possible that she released the brake without the
least idea of what she was doing. She may easily have been doing
nothing more than displaying a fleeting interest in an object,
with no concept of the possible ramifications of her actions.
This, I'm afraid, is very much within the scope of her current
behavior."
There was a long silence as Rose and Jack digested what the
doctor was saying. Jack shifted uncomfortably while Rose played
with a glove.
"What you're saying, Dr. Belter, if I read you right," Jack said
tightly, "is that my daughter is dangerous."


82 

Dr. Belter sighed and began again. '.'No, that's not exactly what
I'm saying."
"Not exactly," Jack repeated, "but close?"
Dr. Belter nodded slightly. "I suppose you could say that if you
wanted to. What Sarah is, right now, is irresponsible. From what
we have been able to observe, she is often totally unaware of the
effects her actions could have. In other words, she acts without
thinking. That can be a dangerous thing for anybody. For her,
with the emotional struggles she is going through, it can
obviously be disastrous. The incident with the van, I'll admit,
is an extreme example, but it is certainly illustrative of what
could happen."
"If she actually released the brake," Jack said darkly. "If she
actually released the brake," Dr. Belter repeated. "And, of
course, we have no way of proving it either way. Believe me,
nothing would make me happier than to be able to show that it was
carelessness on George Diller's part. It would be much more
simply dealt with. But I can't."
"You said there's more," Rose said softly. "What else is there?"
"Marie?" Dr. Belter said, turning toward the teacher. "Why don't
you run through it?"
Marie Montgomery picked a file up from the desk and opened it.
"It's all so minor," she said. 'Really just litfie things, but
when they're added up, I think we have to pay attention to it.
First, Sarah seems to be retreating further into herself. It
isn't anything major. It'S just that a couple of months ago she
would almost always respond to her name the first time it was
spoken. Now she never hears until it's repeated, or if she does
she seems to ignore it.
"Then there's the matter of her concentration. It seems to be
getting shorter. As a matter of fact, I have some figures on
that, but, again, they aren't anything major. What it boils down
to is that she spends ls



time with any one thing than she used to. That in itself wouldn't
bother me particularly attention spans seem to expand and
contract like rubber bands around here  but with Sarah it isn't
as if she gets bored with what she's doing, exactly. It's more as
though she finds herself more interesting than the real world.
It's getting harder to keep her focused on the real world, and
that bothers me. It's beginning to look like we're losing touch
with her, instead of getting closer to her." Marie Montgomery saw
the flash of pain in Jack's eyes and hurried on. "That's really
the major reason for this meeting. To find out if the same things
are happening at home."
Rose shook her head. "I don't think so," she said doubtfully,
"but of course I can't really be sure. I find it awfully hard to
look at her objectively. I'm afraid I try to see progress where
there might not be any."
"There's progress," Jack said, but his voice indicated that his
statement might be more wish than fact.
"Jack," Rose said, as gently as she could. "What progress has
there been, really?" She turned back to Mrs. Montgomery. "I wish
I could tell you whether or not there really has been any change
in Sarah, but I can't."
"We're not expecting you to be able to tell us anything today,"
Dr. Belter put in. "As we've tried to make clear, nothing major
has happened. This is simply to alert you to something that might
be happening. We aren't sure, and we're asking for your help. It
would be very helpful for us, and for Sarah, if you could simply
be aware that something may be going on that we don't know about,
and try to notice anything unusual or different in her behavior."
"Well," Jack said carefully, '/there was that thing with the
Ouija board the other night."
"Ouija board?" Dr. Belter said. "I haven't seen one of those
things in years. Do they still make them?" "Not this one," Rose
said. "Elizabeth found it in a


84 

storeroom or something. And the Ouiia board really had nothing to
do with what happened."
She recounted the incident of a few nights earlier, and Sarah's
reaction to the cat brushing up against
her. As she talked, Dr. Belter took a few notes. "It was really
nothing," Rose finished.
"And they were playing with a Ouiia board?" Dr. Belter asked
again. "Hmm." He made a final note and looked up. "Does Sarah
spend much time with her sister?"
-"That's putting it mildly," Jack said. "The worst part of each
day is when Elizabeth leaves for school and Sarah has to wait for
the van to bring her out here. They're practically inseparable."
"And how does Elizabeth react to Sarah?" the doctor asked.
"Considering her age," Rose said, "it's amazing. You have to
remember that Elizabeth is only thirteen herself. But the way she
takes care of Sarah, you'd think she was five years older. She
seems to understand Sarah, somehow. She plays with her by the
hour, and reads to her, and it never bothers her when Sarah
suddenly wrecks whatever they're playing, or grabs a book out of
her hands. And the other night, when Sarah screamed, it was as if
Elizabeth didn't hear it at all. It upset Jack and me much more
than it did either of the girls."
"It's strange," Jack said, picking up the thread. "Elizabeth
talks to Sarah, and she never seems to notice that Sarah doesn't
talk back. It's as if Sarah doesn't have to talk Elizabeth seems
to communicate with her or something. Sometimes Elizabeth makes
me feel inadequate. I've tried to talk to Sarah so many times I
can't count them, but as soon as I pick her up she starts
wriggling around, and in a couple of minutes she's out of my lap
and off to find Elizabeth."
"Has she shown any signs of violence at home?" Dr. Belter said
quietly.

 85

"Sarah? I don't think so," Rose said. "Why?" "Again, it's nothing
we can really put our finger on," Dr. Belter said. "The screaming
when the cat brushed up against her reminded me of it. One day
last week one of the children came up behind Sarah and touched
her shoulder. She screamed, which isn't abnormal for her, but she
also whirled around and hit the other child. She hadn't done that
before, and we still don't know if it was an accident or if she
struck at the child on purpose. Has she ever swung at either of
you? Or at Elizabeth?"
Jack and Rose shook their heads.
"Certainly not at either of us," Rose said. "And if she'd ever
done anything like that to Elizabeth, I'm sure we'd have heard
about it." She paused a moment, as if reaching to remember
something, then went on. "I'm afraid we don't really spend as
much time with Elizabeth as we should. But Sarah takes up so much
of our time. Well, Elizabeth doesn't seem to resent it."
"You're very lucky," Dr. Belter said. "Many parents find that
they have more trouble with their so-called normal child than
with their disturbed one. It's only to be expected, really. All
children need attention, and when one is disturbed, the other
often feels he needs to compete for his parents' attention. It
sounds as if Elizabeth is a very exceptional child." He smiled
and stood up. "Thank you for coming today. We'll be going over
Sarah's case in our staff meeting tomorrow, and we may make some
minor changes in her meditation. Other than that, for the moment
it's just a matter
of keeping our eyes open and trying to spot a trend." "Then
that's it?" Jack said, getting to his feet. "That's it," Dr.
Belter said. "For the moment. I don't want you to feel alarmed.
You should, however, be aware that if Sarah's condition
deteriorates too far, we won't be able to keep her here. White
Oaks is a school, not an institution." Seeing the anxiety in both
their faces, Dr. Belter hurried to reassure them. "It's


86 

only an eventuality," he said. "For the moment, we aren't having
any more problems with Sarah than With any of the others. And
some of them are a lot worse than she is. For the foreseeable
future, I look forward to having Sarah here."
"Can we take her home with us," Rose asked, "or has she already
gone in the van?"
"She's waiting in my room," Mrs. Montgomery said. "One of the
aides is with her. I'm sure she'll be glad
tO see you."
But Sarah wasn't waiting in Marie Montgomery's
room.

In the house on Conger's Point, Elizabeth poured the last of a
glass of milk into the cat's dish, and watched as Cecil lapped it
up. Then she picked up the animal and listened to him purr.
"Come on," she said to the cat. "Let's go outside."
Scratching Cecil's ears, Elizabeth carried him from. the house.
As she crossed the field, Elizabeth pulled the rubber band out of
her ponytail and shook her head. The blond hair cascaded over her
shoulders. Her step quickened.
No one saw her disappear into the woods.

The room was a shambles: desks and chairs were overturned; the
items that were normally arranged across the top of Marie
Montgomery's desk had been swept from it and now lay scattered
and broken across the floor to the left of the desk.
"Jesus," Jack breathed. Before anyone could say more, they heard
the sounds from the cloakroom-scuffling noises, as though
whatever struggle had taken place in the classroom was now
continuing in the small room behind the blackboard. The sounds
were muted but somehow desperate. There were no cries, none of
the shouts that should accompany the sort of battle that must
have taken place. Led by Mrs. Montgomery, the three of them raced
through the room.
In the back corner of the cloakroom the aide struggled with
Sarah. The battle had come to a stalemate.
When she spoke, Mrs. Montgomery's voice was very low and
completely controlled, but it held a note of authority that Rose
Conger was sure had cut through worse confusion than confronted
her now.
"Philip," she said, "what's happened here?" Immediately the
struggle stopped. The aide, who couldn't have been more than
twenty, straightened and stepped away from Sarah.
The child was a mess. Her shirt was torn in several places, and
she was covered with some sort of yellow substance. As soon as
the aide let her go, Sarah's hand



moved. to her mouth, and she began chewing. Rose stared at her,
and it was a few seconds before she realized what her daughter
was doing. The yellow substance was chalk, and Sarah was chewing
on a piece of it. Philip watched her for a second before turning
to the small group that hovered in the doorway. Rose started to
move toward her daughter, but Marie Montgomery's hand held her
back.
"It's all right," she said quietly. "A little chalk isn't going
to hurt her."
"It's not a little," Philip said. "She's been at it ever since
you left. She must have eaten almost a full box by now."
"And you tried to stop her?" Marie asked.
The young man nodded. He looked miserable. "I couldn't do it,
though. I was afraid of hurting her."
"You probably scared her half to death," Marie said. "If you'd
let her alone, she might have stopped of her own accord. A little
chalk won't hurt her."
"But a whole box?" Jack said. He took a step toward Sarah. The
child shrank back farther into the corner of the tiny room, and
began to gnaw on another stick. Her teeth made a strange grinding
sound as she crushed the chalk into powder. She swallowed some of
it, but most of it cascaded, mixed with saliva, into her lap.
Jack felt a queasy feeling developing in his stomach.
Rose broke free from Mrs. Montgomery's grip, and quickly moved
past her husband to pick up her daughter. Sarah let herself be
lifted, but refused to open her hand when Rose tried to remove
the chalk she clutched. Rose seemed to be about to struggle with
her when Mrs. Montgomery spoke again.
"Let her have it, Mrs. Conger. Really, it won't hurt her. If
she's had too much, she might throw it up. Otherwise, it'll pass
right through her. If it could hurt her, we wouldn't use it here.
Our kids do that all the

 89

time." She looked accusingly at the aide, who seemed to wither.
"It just seemed like she was eating so much of it." "So you
scared her half to death, and wrecked the room?" the teacher
inquired drily. "Don't you think the cure was a bit worse than
the illness?"
"I guess I just.... Philip trailed off. "Didn't think;" he
finished lamely.
"I guess you didn't," Marie said, but the chill was gone from her
voice, and she was smiling again. "Well, next time, keep in mind
that chalk doesn't hurt children, and that desks cost money. And
you can think about it while you clean up my room." She turned
and led the Congets out of the room, walking with them to their
car.
"Are you sure it won't hurt her?" Jack asked aga'm as he turned
the key in the ignition.
Mrs. Montgomery shook her head. "She might throw up, but that's
all." She waved to them as they drove away, then turned back to
the building. She'd changed her mind, and was about to help
Philip clean up the mess.

Rose, holding a now passive Sarah on her lap, was still trying to
get the scene out of her mind when the vomiting began. She wasn't
sure it was going to happen at first; she felt a couple of
involuntary flinches in her daughter, but then Sarah lay still
again in her mother's arms. Then, without ,warning, it came.
The yellowish stream shot out of Sarah's mouth and ran down into
her lap, where it overflowed. Rose could feel the heat of it as
it soaked through her wool pants. She felt more than saw Jack
glance over to see what had happened.
"Don't look," she said tightly. "Just keep your eyes on the road
and get us home as quickly as you can. Mrs. Montgomery said this
might happen." She was

90 

trying to reach into hr purse for the package of Kleenex that was
always there, when the second convulsion hit. As she felt more of
the vomit flow over her legs, she realized the Kleenex would be
futile. Instead, she used her free hand to roll the window down.
The cold air hit her face and cut through the sickening
sweet-sour smell of the vomit, and Rose began to fight down her
own nausea. Then Jack had opened his window, too, and she felt
more fresh 'air. It wasn't until Sarah began to throw up again
that Rose realized their mistake. There was a window open, and
Sarah was struggling to reach it.
"Dear God, this can't be happening," Rose said to herself as the
mixture of freezing air and vomit washed over her face. She was
sure she was going to lose her own battle with nausea as she
began to struggle to get SaraWs face out of the wind.
The girl was crying now, and Rose began to panic as she realized
what could happen to Sarah if she began to choke on her own
vomit.
"Jack," she said. "I think you'd better try to stop the car.
Don't look. Just stop the car." "There's a rest area just up
ahead. Can you make it?" 'Tll have to," Rose said.
She felt the car surge forward, then swerve to the right and
brake sharply. She had the door open before the car had quite
stopped. She swung out of the car and set Sarah on the asphalt of
the parking lot. She was just able to get off the lot and onto a
patch of bare earth when the first retching began. Mortified, she
stood with her forehead resting; against the trunk of a tree, her
own vomit mixing with Sarah's as it splashed aga'mst her legs. In
a couple of minutes, it was over.
She turned back to the car, and her teary eyes told her that for
her daughter it was not yet over.
Sarah sat miserably in the spot where Rose had left her, and the
convulsions were beginning again. Fran-

 91

tically, Rose looked for her husband. For a second he seemed to
have disappeared, but then she saw h'nn coming from the men's
room, a sodden paper towel in his hands. Ignoring her, he went
directly to Sarah, knelt beside her, and began bathing her face
with the dripping towel. Rose watched the scene in. silence, then
began making her way to the women's room.
For a long time she ran cold water, scooping it up and pouring it
over her face, as if the water could wash away the experience
that preceded it. Finally she turned to the car.

They saw Mrs. Goodrich standing on the porch when they turned
into the driveway. The Congets glanced at each other, and their
eyes held for a moment. There was a sudden warmth between them
that neither of them had felt for a year. When Rose spoke, it was
not to wonder why Mrs. Goodrich was on the porch. "I'm sorry
about all that," she said quietly.
"It's all right," Jack replied, his voice gentle. "It's nice to
know that I'm still good at something, even if it's only looking
after my sick womenfolk."
Rose saw the pain and tenderness flash in his eyes. She looked
away, her gaze coming to rest on Sarah, who had fallen asleep in
her arms.
"Do you think I ought to call the doctor?" She shifted Sarah's
weight so that the child's head was cradled on her shoulder.
"If it'll make you feel better. But I suspect it's all over now.
She's got all that crap out of her system. I think we can wait
till she wakes up at least. Then we'll see." He stopped the car
in front of the house, got out, and went around to open the door
for his wife. Mrs. Goodrich had left the porch and was coming
toward them, her ample figure moving as quickly as her age would
allow. As Jack pulled open the passenger door, she stopped.
"Lord have mercy," she muttered, her eyes taking


92 

in the mess that covered the inside of the car, Sarah, and Rose.
Involuntarily she took a couple of steps backward.
"It's all right, Mrs. Goodrich," Rose said, disengaging herself
carefully from the car so as not to disturb Sarah, in her arms.
"We had a little trouble, but it's over with now."
Mrs. Goodrich surveyed the mess stoically. If she wondered what
had happened, it didn't show in her face. "I'll have to take a
hose to the inside of that car," she said, almost making it sound
like a threat.
"I'll take care of it, Mrs. Goodrich," Jack began. "We can't
really ask you "
"I've cleaned up worse than that in my time," the housekeeper
snapped. "Besides, you've got other things to do." There was an
edge to her voice that captured Jack's attention. Rose had
already disappeared with Sarah into the house.
-"Other things? What other things?"
"It's Miss Elizabeth," the housekeeper said. "I think she's been
playing where she's not supposed to." Jack waited for her to
continue, and eventually had to prompt her.
"Well," Mrs. Goodrich said "I saw her come out of the woods not
too long ago. I don't know why, but I'm sure she was playing on
the embankment. She denied it, of course." The last was said with
the certainty of one convinced, by a lifetime of hard experience,
that children will deny anything and everything, even when caught
red-handed.
"Elizabeth's usually pretty honest," Jack said gently. He was
reluctant to nettle the old woman; when he did, it usually showed
up at dinner in the form of overcooked food. Mrs. Goodrich peered
at him over her glasses and stood her ground.
'Tin well aware of that, young man," she said, and Jack prepared
to give .in. Ever since he had been a

 93

child, he had known that when Mrs. Goodrich called him "young
man" she meant business.
"Nevertheless," she went on, "I think you'd better speak to her.
She knows she's not to go into those woods, let alone anywhere
near the embankment. And I know she was in the woods. I saw her
come out."
"All right," Jack said. "1'1l talk to her as soon as I clean up.
Where is she?"
"In the field," Mrs. Goodrich said dourly, indicating that as far
as she was concerned, the field was almost on par with the woods
and the embankment. She pointed off to the distance, and,
following her gesture with his eyes, Jack saw his older daughter.
She was squatting down, and seemed to be looking at som thing.
He started to move toward the house but, seeing the glare Mrs.
Goodrich was giving him, turned toward the field instead.
"No time like the present," he heard the hous keeper mutter
behind him.
Elizabeth didn't see him until he was less than twenty feet from
her. She suddenly looked up, as if she had heard something, but
Jack was sure he had been silent. When she saw him a smile lit
her face, and Jack could feel its glow brighten his spirits. He
stopped, and the two of them studied each other for a moment.
With her hair flowing free, Elizabeth looked more than ever like
the girl in the portrait.
"How's my favorite daughter?" he said, break'rag the silence.
"Am I?" she said, the smile growing even brighter. "Well, if I
am, you deserve this for telling me so."
She stooped, and when she stood up there was a single buttercup
in her hand. She ran over to him and held the flower under his
chin.
"Well?" he said. "Do I glow?"
"I'm not going to tell you." Elizabeth laughed. "Did


94 

you bring Sarah home with you?" He nodded, and when Elizabeth
turned and began to walk toward the house, he stopped her.
"Hold on. Can't you spend a little time with your favorite
father?"
Elizabeth turned back to him. "I just thought " she began.
"Never mind," Jack said. "Sarah had a little trouble on the way
home, and your mother's cleaning her up. It's nothing serious,"
he added hastily as a look of concern twisted Elizabeth's face.
"Just something she
ate. She had a bit of an accident on the way home." "Yuck!"
Elizabeth said. "Does the car stink?"
"Mrs. G's cleaning it up. She wants me to talk to yOU."
"I thought she would," Elizabeth said. "She thinks I was out on
the embankment today."
"Were you?" lack tried to sound unconcerned.
"No," she said. "I wasn't. I don't know why she thinks I was."
"She said she saw you coming out of the woods."
"I know," Elizabeth said. "And I don't know why
she thinks that either. I wasn't in the woods." "Were you near
them?"
Elizabeth nodded. "I thought I saw Cecil, and I was following
him. But I don't think it was Cecil. It looked like him, but
then, just as he was about to go into the woods, he jumped.
'Cecil' turned out to be a rabbit."
"How could you mistake a rabbit for Cecil?" Jack asked. "Of all
the un-rabbitish cats I know, Cecil is the most un-rabbitish of
them all."
"Search me," Elizabeth said. "But he sure looked like Cecil till
he jumped."
"Well, I'm glad he did," her father said. "If he hadn't, you
might have followed him into the woods."
"I'd have noticed," Elizabeth said. She was silent for a moment;
then: "Daddy, why aren't I allowed to go into the woods or to the
embankment?"

 95

"It's dangerous, that's why," Jack said, his tone indicating that
he would like to leave it at that. But Elizabeth was not to be
put off.
"But, Daddy, I'm thirteen years old' now, and I can take care of
myself. I don't see how the embankment can be any more dangerous
than the quarry, and you let me go there any time I want to."
"I'd just as soon you stayed away from there, too," Jack said.
"But why?" Elizabeth pressed. When there was no
answer she said, "It's because of Anne Forager, isn't it?" "Anne
Forager?" Jack said guardedly.
"All the kids are talking about it. They say something awful
happened to her, and that it happened out here. Is that true?"
"I don't know," Jack said truthfully. "I don't really think
anything happened to her, and if it did, I doubt very much if it
happened out here. At any rate, that doesn't have anything to do
with you. It's just that the embankment is very dangerous."
"Not any more than the quarry."
Jack shook his head. "If you slipped at the quarry, you'd at
least have a chance. You'd fall into deep water, and you can
swim. With the embankment, you wouldn't hit water. You'd hit
rocks and surf. That's a whole different story."
"I suppose you're right," she said. Then she looked up at him,
and there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. "But in five years
I'll be eighteen. Then I'll go see just what's at this
embankment, and you won't be able to stop me."
"That's five years," Jack said. "In five years you could change
your mind."
"I won't," Elizabeth assured him. Then she slipped her hand into
his, and together they walked back to the house.


 95

"It's dangerous, that's why," Jack said, his tone indicating that
he would like to leave it at that. But Elizabeth was not to be
put off.
"But, Daddy, I'm thirteen years old'now, and I can 'take care of
myself. I don't see how the embankment can be any more dangerous
than the quarry, and you let me go there any time I want to."
"I'd just as soon you stayed away from there, too," Jack said.
"But why?" Elizabeth pressed. When there was no
answer she said, "It's because of Anne Forager, isn't it?" "Anne
Forager?" Jack said guardedly.
"All the kids are talking about it. They say something awful
happened to her, and that it happened out here. Is that true?"
"I don't know," Jack said truthfully. "I don't really think
anything happened to her, and if it did, I doubt very much if it
happened out here. At any rate, that doesn't have anything to do
with you. It's just that the embankment is very dangerous."
"Not any more than the quarry."
Jack shook his head. "If you slipped at the quarry, you'd at
least have a chance. You'd fall into deep water, and you can
swim. With the embankment, you wouldn't hit water. You'd hit
rocks and surf. That's a whole different story."
"I suppose you're right," she said. Then she looked up at him,
and there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. "But in five years
I'll be eighteen. Then I'll go see just what's at this
embankment, and you won't be able to stop me."
"That's five years," Jack said. "In five years you could change
your mind."
"I won't," Elizabeth assured him. Then she slipped her hand into
his, and together they walked back to the house.


96 JOrN SAUL

Dinner was a quiet affair for the Congers that night, at least at
the beginning. Out of respect for the delicate stomachs of Rose
and Sarah, Mrs. Goodrich had put together a light omelette, which
she had restrained herself from burning. Conversation was
dilatory, much of it in the form of encouraging remarks directed
toward Sarah by her parents. Sarah seemed not to hear; instead
she concentrated on her plate, calmly shoving each forkful of egg
into her mouth, chewing stoically, and swallowing. To Elizabeth,
Sarah seemed to be as she always was.
Mrs. Goodrich cleared away the plates and brought in the dessert.
"Here we go again," Elizabeth said.
"Hmm?" Rose inquired, turning her attention from Sarah to the
older girl. Elizabeth grinned at her.
"I said, 'Here we go again.' We had the same pudding at school
today. Except .this is better."
"Oh?" Rose said. But she was not really interested; her attention
was back on Sarah. "How was school?"
"Not bad. We got our history tests back. I think Mr. Friedman
must have made a mistake. He gave' me a perfect score."
Now both Rose and Jack turned to Elizabeth, and she could see the
pleased expression in their eyes. But before they could speak, a
sound rent the air.
Elizabeth turned, then ducked just in time to avoid the bowl of
pudding that was flying toward her from her sister's place. The
glass bowl shattered on the wall behind Elizabeth, but the sound
of its crashing was inaudible over the shrieks and wails
emanating from Sarah.
Her face contorted in rage, Sarah snatched all the silverware
within her reach, and in a moment it was scattered across the
room. One of the heavy silver knives shattered a pane in the
French door and Clattered to rest on the veranda outside. Her
voice build-

 97

ing, Sarah continued to howl as her arms moved wildly over the
table, searching out other things to throw.
Rose sat as if frozen and stared at Sarah. Sarah had been so
calm, and now  She began to rise as she saw Sarah's fists clutch
at the tablecloth. She tried to prepare herself for the
destruction that was imminent if her daughter followed through on
what she apparently intended to do.
And then, over the din of Sarah's howling, she heard Jack's voice
shouting.
"For God's sake!" he yelled. "Will you get her out of here?"
Rose's eyes widened, but the impact of his words seemed to free
her from her chair. Wordlessly she swept Sarah into her arms,
somehow freeing the clutching fingers from the tablecloth, and
carried her from the room. As she passed Jack she sensed more
than saw him slump weakly in his chair.
The dining room was suddenly silent, and the two of them sat
there, Jack avoiding words, Elizabeth with nothing to say. Then,
visibly, Jack began to pull himself together.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, more to himself than to Elizabeth.
"Every time she does something like that I get the most horrible
feeling. I get the feeling that I made her nuts." He began
sobbing, but silently.
"And I guess I did," he mumbled. Then he too left the room, and
Elizabeth was suddenly alone.
She sat quite still for a time, as if she had neither heard what
her father said nor noticed the chaos around her. When eventually
she moved, it was to begin cleaning up the mess. She cleared off
the table first, then began on the wall and floor. She moved
slowly, carefully, as if her mind was far from what she was
doing. When she finished, she surveyed the dining room.
"I was so sure that was Cecil," she said, for no ap:


98 

parent reason. "But I guess it couldn't have been." She was
silent, then spoke once more to the empty room. "I wish he'd come
home."
Then Elizabeth, too, left the dining room.

8

To an observer they would have seemed no different from any other
family at breakfast. Perhaps one child  the younger was much
quieter than the other, but such is the case in any family. Only
a particularly careful observer would have noted a slight air of
strain around them, as if they were avoiding something. As,
indeed, they were.
Rose Conger was maintaining an almost grim good cheer, doing her
best to prevent the silence that was normal for Sarah from
becoming the norm for them all. But she knew no one was paying
any attention to her. She could see Jack, his face mostly hidden,
trying desperately to concentrate on his morning paper. And she
knew that Elizabeth was devoting more energy to getting. food
into Sarah than she was to listening to her mother.
"And, of course," Rose chirped, "they have a son." She waited for
a reaction, but there was none. She said, a little more loudly,
"A fourteen-year-old son." She was gratified to note that she
suddenly had her older daughter's attention.
"Who does?" EYzabeth said, putting down the knife she had been
using to slice Sarah's sausages.
"You haven't been listening. The new neighbors. If you hadn't
been so engrossed, you'd have heard me."
Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry," she said, with a grin
that let it be known that she was apologizing more for the sake.
of form than for anything


100 

else. "Don't tell me you actually sold the Barneses' old place."
She made a face. "I hate that house. Who would want to live
there?"
"Ws a family," Rose said, smoothing the tablecloth unconsciously.
"An architect and an artist. And their son. His name's Jeff."
"A boy," squealed Elizabeth. "A real live boyl What's he look
like?"
"I'm sure he'll be terribly handsome," Rose replied. "Isn't the
boy next door always supposed to be terribly handsome?"
Elizabeth blushed, and the sudden flushing disconcerted Rose. And
then it hit her that she had somehow come to think of Elizabeth
as being older than she was. She had to remind herself that
Elizabeth was only thirteen, and that thirteen-year-old girls are
very likely to blush when boys are mentioned.
"Actually, I don't know what he looks like. But we'll all know
over the weekend. Carl and Barbara-they're the new neighbors,"
she added for the benefit of Jack, who had finally put his paper
down. "Cad and Barbara Stevens will be coming down this morning,
and I'm going to spend most of the day with them." Jack looked at
her questioningly.
"Well," Rose went on, a little uncomfortably, "since the Barneses
aren't around, somebody has to show them how the house works.
Particularly a house like that." She saw a shadow of doubt cross
Jack's face.
"All right," she said, putting down her napkin. "Also, I feel
like being a busybody neighbor and seeing what I can find out
about them. So far they seem to be a delight, and I think it
would be nice to have neighbors who are also friends. It would be
fun to have people we like close enough for dropping in, and I
intend to promote it."
"Well," Jack said, the shadow of doubt now growing into a cloud.
'Tm not so sure that's a good idea." Rose saw his eyes flick
involuntarily toward Sarah. It

 101

was so fast that she was sure he wasn't aware that he had done
it; she was equally sure she hadn't imagined it. She decided to
face the issue directly. She began folding the napkin into
smaller and smaller squares.
"I see no reason why we should behave like hermits," she said
slowly. "If there is a reason, I'd like to know what it is."
The color drained from Jack's face, and he stared at his wife.
"I I should think " he began. Then he fell into an uncomfortable
silence.
"I should think," Rose said definitely, "that we should keep in
mind what century we are living in. Having a daughter in White
Oaks School is not something we need to be ashamed of. If you
think it is, then you have more of a problem than Sarah does."
She paused as she saw Jack signaling with his eyes to where
Elizabeth sat, listening to what her mother was saying. Making up
her mind, Rose turned to Elizabeth.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"About what?" Elizabeth asked carefully, unsure of the direction
things were taking.
"Well," Rose said, casting about in her mind for the proper
words. "About Sarah, I suppose."
Elizabeth looked directly at her mother almost accusingly, Rose
thought. She seemed to be struggling with herself, and almost on
the verge of tears. Then, she found her voice as her tears
overflowed.
"I think," she said, fighting back a sob with a small, choking
sound, "that we all should remember that Sarah isn't deaf. She
doesn't talk, but she hears." She stared beseechingly at her
mother for a few seconds, then turned back to her sister. "Come
on, Sarah," she said. "Let's go get ready for school." She took
Sarah's hand, and led her out of the dining room. Silently, Rose
and Jack watched them go.
"'From the mouths of babes...'" Jack said softly.


102 OHN SA6L

Then he saw the tears running down his wife's face. He moved from
his chair and knelt beside her. She buried her face in his
shoulder, and her body shook with her sobs.
"What are we going to do, Jack?" she said into his ear. "She
makes me feel ashamed sometimes. Absolutely ashamed. And she's
only thirteen."
Jack patted her gently. "I know, darling," he said. "I know. I
guess sometimes children have an easier time of things. They seem
to be able to accept things the way they are. And we have to
fight it."
"It?" Rose looked up. Their eyes met, and there was closeness
between them, a closeness Rose hadn't felt since the early years
of their marriage.
"Life," Jack said. "Wouldn't it be nice if we could stop fighting
life?"
Rose nodded. "But we can't, can we?" Jack didn't answer, nor did
Rose expect him to.

A few minutes later Rose looked in on her daughters. Elizabeth,
already dressed, was brushing Sarah's thick dark hair. Sarah sat
quietly in front of the mirror, but Rose couldn't tell whether
she was watching Elizabeth. She might have been, but she might
also have been somewhere else, living a life that had nothing to
do with this room, her sister, or anything else related to the
house on the Point.
"Do you need anything before I go?" Rose said. Elizabeth looked
up and smiled. "An extra quarter for snack period?" she asked
brightly. Rose shook her head. Elizabeth straightened up.
"There," she said. "What do you think?" Rose noted that the
barrettes Elizabeth had fastened in her sister's short, shiny
hair did not match, and the part was not quite straight. She
decided not to comment on it.
"What does Sarah think?" she countered.
"Oh, she loves it," Elizabeth said. "It keeps her hair out of her
eyes."

 103

"That counts for a lot," Rose said, smiling. "Could you do the
same for me?"
"Sure," Elizabeth said eagerly. "Now?"
Rose laughed. "Later. I dont have time now, and neither do you.
But maybe tomorrow," she added, seeing the light fade in
Elizabeth's eyes. "Kiss me good-bye?"
Elizabeth approached her mother and tipped her head up to be
kissed. Rose squeezed her quickly, then moved to the vanity,
where Sarah sat, still apparently staring at her new hairdo. Rose
knelt and wrapped Sarah in her arms.
"Have a good day, sweetheart," she whispered. She kissed the
little girl several times, then hugged her once more. "See you
this afternoon," she said.
Downstairs again, Rose stopped in the kitchen to speak to Mrs.
Goodrich. The housekeeper looked up at her inquiringly.
"Has CeCil turned up yet?" Rose asked. Mrs. Goodrich shook her
head.
"Do me a favor and look around for him today, w'fil you?"
"Cats can take care of themselves. He'll be back when he's a mind
to," the old woman said.
"I'm sure he will," Rose said drily. "But would you mind having a
look anyway? The children miss him. He might have gotten locked
in somewhere."
"If he did, someone locked him," Mrs. Goodrich stated. Then she
relented. "Sure. You go on now I'll find him."
Rose smiled her thanks and went to find her husband. Jack had
already left the house.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Goodrich continued loading the dishes into
the dishwasher. She was convinced that no machine could get
dishes nearly clean enough for someone to eat from, but she used
the machine anyway. She simply washed them to her own
satisfaction before loading them into the machine and left


104 SOHN SAUL

out the soap. She supposed the machine was good enough for
rinsing, particularly since she rinsed them herself, too. She
closed the-door and pressed the button to make the dishwasher
start. All that racket, she thought. It's a wonder they don't all
smash. Then, over the noise of the washer, she heard another
sound, from the front of the house. She moved to the kitchen
door, opened it slightly, and listened.
"No, Sarah," she heard Elizabeth saying. "You can't come with me.
You have to wait here for the van."
Mrs. Goodrich heard Sarah wail, and moved through the door.
"Oh, Sarah," Elizabeth was saying, a little louder now. "I wish
you could come with me, really I do, but you simply can't. It'll
only be a few minutes." There was another wail from Sarah.
"Sarah, let go. I'm going to be late ff I don't leave now."
When Mrs. Goodrich appeared in the front hallway, Elizabeth was
valiantly trying to free herself from Sarah's grasp. The smaller
girl held on to Elizabeth's wrist with both hands, and Elizabeth
was making no headway at all. Each time she pried one hand loose,
the other would grasp her anew. She saw Mrs. Goodrich, and
signaled to her to hurry.
"Help," she said, keeping her voice as light as she could. "Just
hang on to her ftll I get out of sight, and she'll be all fight."
Mrs. Goodrich seized Sarah and held her firmly while Elizabeth
put on .her coat. "You hurry along now," the woman said. "The
sooner you're gone, the easier time I'll have. Not that I'm
say'me I don't lik having you around," she added.
"I know," Elizabeth grinned. "I'll see you this after-
nOOll.''
Elizabeth went to the front door, opened it, turned to wave to
Sarah, then closed the door behind her. She tried not to listen
as she heard Sarah's voice rise in a howl of anguish. Instead,
she concentrated on the trees

 105

that lined the driveway. By the time she reached the Point Road,
she'd almost convinced herself that Sarah had stopped her
howling.
Behind her the battle that was raging was a strange one. Sarah's
outraged screams filled the house, and she struggled, twisting
and squirming in Mrs. Goodrich's arms. Her face set, the old
woman drew every measure of strength she possessed to hang on as
tightly as she dared, and hold the child without hurting her.
Mrs. Goodrich saw no point in trying to talk to Sarah. She was
sure the child would never hear her above her own din, and it
would only be wasting her strength to try. Grimly, she held on.
Then Sarah bit her. The housekeeper felt the teeth sink into her
hand, into the fleshy part at the base of the thumb. She steeled
herself against the pain and lifted Sarah off the floor. She
carried the child to a window and turned so that Sarah .could see
out. Sarah stopped howling.
Mrs. Goodrich set her down then, and examined the thumb. The skin
was broken, but not badly.
"It's been a long time since a child did that to Mrs. Goodrich
noted out loud. Sarah, her attention diverted from the window and
the empty driveway beyond, stared up into the housekeeper's face.
Looking down into the huge, empty brown eyes, a surge of pity
swept over the old woman. She slowly knelt down and put her arms
around the child. "But I don't suppose you meant anything by it,
did you? And you're not rabid, so there's no real harm done." She
continued to hold the child, soothing her until she heard the van
coming up the driveway. Then she hauled herself to her feet and,
taking Sarah by the hand, led her back to the front door. Sarah
stood docilely while Mrs. Goodrich bundled her into her coat, and
made no objection when George Diller led her to the van. Mrs.
Goodrich stood by the door and watched the van till it was out of
sight. She didn't wave; she was too tired


106 

from the struggle, and she didn't really think Sarah would see it
anyway. When the driveway was em,ty once again, she closed the
door slowly and retreated to her kitchen, where she bathed the
injured hand, winced as she aOvlied iodine, and bandaged it. Then
she remembered the cat.
She was sure it was a waste of time, but she had agreed to make a
search for Cecil, and she would. She decided to get the long
climb to the attic out of the way first and work down from there.
Getting to the second floor was no problem; she was used to that.
She carried the key to the attic door in her pocket, but
instinctively tried the door as she reached for the key. The key
dropped back into her pocket as the door opened, revealing the
steep staircase. "Supposed to be locked," she muttered to
herself, pausing a moment to rest before tackling the stairs that
led to the attic. As she climbed, she tried to remember the last
time anybody had been up here. A month ago, when they had brought
down the old portrait. She went into the attic and closed the
door behind her.
"Cec'd?" she called. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty . . ."

Elizabeth was halfway into town when she saw Kathy Burton walking
ahead of her.
"Kathy?" she yelled. The girl ahead of her stopped and turned
around. "Wait up," Elizabeth called. She ran until she caught up
with her friend.
"What are you doing out here?" she said when she was abreast of
Kathy.
"I was baby-sitting last night," Kathy said. "At the Nortons'."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "They're weird," she said. "What do
you mean?"
"He's so much older than she is . . ." Elizabeth trailed off,
mulling the peculiarities of her elders. Then another thought
occurred to her.
"Your mother lets you baby-sit there?"

 107

"Sure," Kathy said curiously. "Why wouldn't she7" "I mean after
what happened to Anne Forager..."
"Oh, that," Kathy shrugged. "My mother says nothing happened to
her at all. She says she's a liar."
Elizabeth nodded. "That's what my dad thinks, too.
But I'm not sure he believes it." "Why?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "He's just acting strange." She
looked around, and pointed to a bird that swooped from a nearby
tree. "Look," she said, "a jay."
Kathy followed her gesture, but missed the bird. "You sure are
lucky, living out here," she said. "That's why I like to sit for
the Nortons. I can stay over and walk back in the morning."
"I wish there was a bus," Elizabeth said. "It gets boring after a
while."
"I wouldn't get tired of it if I lived out here," Kathy said
confidently. "It must be fun to be able to go exploring any time
you want to."
Elizabeth nodded, but her attention was no longer on Kathy.
A rabbit had flashed across the road ahead of the girls, and as
Elizabeth watched it a strange expression crossed her face. She
stopped, and seemed to be grasping at an elusive thought.
"There's a place," she whispered. "What?" Kathy asked.
"A secret place," Elizabeth went on. She turned to Kathy and
stared intensely into her eyes. "Would you like to go there
sometime?"
Kathy's eyes widened. "What kind of place?"
"If I told you it wouldn't be secret any more, would it? If I
take you there, you have to promise never to tell anybody about
it."
"Oh, I wouldn't," Kathy said, the excitement of sharing a secret
bringing a quiver to her voice. "It would be just ours."


108 

Elizabeth seemed on the verge of saying something more when she
heard the sound of a vehicle approaching from behind them. She
pulled Kathy off the road, and the two of them waited while the
White Oaks van passed them. George Diller waved and tooted the
horn as he passed. From the back of the van the girls could see
Sarah, her face pressed against the rear window of the vehicle,
until the bus took a curve in the road, moving out of sight. When
the van was gone, Elizabeth stopped waving, and she and Kathy
once again began walking.
"What's wrong with her?" Kathy asked. "Who?"
"Sarah," Kathy said.
"Who said something's the matter with her?" Elizabeth said
defensively. It upset her to be asked questions about her sister.
"My mother," Kathy said matter-of-facfly. "She said Sarah's
crazy."
Elizabeth stared at the ground for a while before she spoke
again.
"I don't think you should talk that way about Sarah." "Well, is
she crazy?" Kathy pressed. "No," Elizabeth said.
"Then why does she go to White Oaks? That's a place for crazy
kids. They come from all over the country to go there."
"And they live there, don't they?" Elizabeth pointed out. "If
Sarah was crazy, wouldn't she have to live there too?"
Kathy thought it over. "Well, if she's not crazy, why does she go
there at all?"
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Something
happened to her about a year ago. She was in the woods, and she
fell or something. And now she can't talk. If she went to school
in town, everybody would laugh at her. But she'll be all right,
as soon as she starts talking again."

 109

The two girls walked in silence for a while, and it wasn't until
they were into town. that either of them spoke again.
"Does Sarah know about the secret place?" Kathy said suddenly.
Elizabeth shook her head. "And you won't either, if you don't
stop asking questions about it, It's a place you have to be. You
can't talk about it."
"Will you show me?" Kathy asked defiantly.
"If you stop talking about it," Elizabeth countered. "It's a very
special place, just for me. But I suppose
I could take you there, since you're a friend of mine." "When?"
But Elizabeth didn't answer. Instead, she gave her friend a
mysterious look, then disappeared into the school.

Mrs. Goodrich spent nearly an hour in the attic, only part of it
looking for Cecil. A quick inspection convinced her that the cat
was not there, and she was about to go back downstairs when
something caught her eye. She wasn't sure what it was something
out of place, or something missing, or something there that
shouldn't have been there. She paused and looked around. For a
long time she couldn't put her finger on what it was. It was more
a feeling than anything tangible. As if someone had been here and
moved things around, then returned them to their original places.
Except that there was still an air in the attic. An air of having
been disturbed.
The old woman began looking around more carefully, realizing as
she did that the attic was as much the storehouse of her memories
as it was the repository of the Conger family's castoffs. All the
things that Congers had used and forgotten about were scattered
around the attic things that they had forgotten about but that
Mrs. Goodrich had not. Her hand caressed the cradle that had been
used for so many Conger


I I0 

babies Sarah most recently, but Elizabeth before her, and their
father before them. She wondered how many generations of Conger
babies had slept in that cradle. And then she noticed that the
intricate hand carving contained not a particle of dust. That was
what had struck her about the attic: no dust. Everything that
should have been covered with dust was clean.
She spent the next hour in the attic, looking for the dirt that
should have been there. But it was not there, nor was Cecil.
Early in the afternoon she decided that, wherever the cat was, he
was not in the house. He'll come back, she thought. When he's a
mind to.

9

"Are you sorry yet?"
Rose asked the question as she peered over the edge of her
highball glass at Barbara St.evens. She had been right; she did
like the Stevenses, and was looking forward to several years of
happy neighborliness. Opposite her, sitting next to Carl, Barbara
stared right back at her.
"Sorry?" she said. "Sorry we bought the house?" "Well," Rose
said, her eyes wandering through the ugly square living room, now
filled with packed boxes and disarranged furniture, "I told you
it was a mess. And it sure is."
Barbara laughed, and the sound seemed to make the room less ugly.
"It isn't all that bad. There are lots of possibilities." Rose
was sure she heard a touch of uncertainty in the words.
"Name one." It was a challenge.
"Carl has dozens," Barbara said, neatly avoiding the hook. "I'll
take over after the remodeling is done."
"In other words," Carl put in, "never. Barbara is thoroughly
convinced that 'remodeling' includes paint, paper, and, if she
can persuade me, new furniture. Then, when it's all finished, she
comes out of her studio, looks around, and says, 'My, we have
done wonders with this place, haven't we?'"
"Now, it's not that bad at all," Barbara protested. "Besides, you
know damned well that you think an architect should have full
control of everything that


112 

goes into a building, from the day the ground is broken until the
day the building is torn down." She turned her attention to Rose
and winked. "He even has stipulations in his contracts to carry
.his instructions forth unto the fourth generation. The sins of
the fathers may not be visited on the sons, but they're sure
going to have to live with them."
"Enough," Carl said, standing up and brandishing a bottle that
the three of them had half killed. '.'Any more, anybody, or shall
we call it a day?"
Rose glanced at her watch, and it struck her that she had spent a
lot more time here than she had intended. But it had been fun,
and she'd found out a lot more about the old house than she had
ever known. The three of them had spent most of the day exploring
it from top to bottom, and the Steverises were now well
acquainted with the Barneses' lighting system, which had allowed
some rooms to be lit only from other rooms. Some rooms, which
Rose explained had been the children's, were without any switches
at all, and the three of them had speculated that the Barneses
had actually and literally kept some of their children in the
dark on occasion. The day had gone fast, and it was close to
four. Rose stood up.
"There's one more thing I should show you," she
said pensively, "and I'd like to do it this afternoon." Carl's
brows rose curiously. "Sounds important."
"It may be, and it may not be. You'll know better than I, since I
haven't met Jeff yet."
"Jeff?" Barbara echoed, now totally mystified. "What does he have
to do with it?"
"Nothing, I hope," Rose said. "That's why I'd like to tell you
about it now, before he gets here. Come on."
She led Carl and Barbara out of the house on the ocean side.
There was a path leading along the cliff to the south, and it was
along this path that Rose took the Stevenses.
"There should be primroses," Carl remarked. Bar-

 113

bara smiled at him appreciatively, but Rose appeared not to have
heard the remark. She strode forward, and they walked for about a
hundred feet before she stopped.
"There," she said, pointing.
Carl and Barbara stared out to sea, their eyes sweeping the
horizon. The ocean was clear of boats and ships, an expanse of
gray-green water broken only by the horizon and Conger's Point
jutting out to sea another hundred yards south of them.
"It's beautiful," Barbara said. "But I don't know what I'm
looking for."
"The Point," Rose said. "From here.you have a good view of the
north face of it. The woods at the top are really a pretty
shallow stand. On the other side of the woods is our field, and,
of course, on the other side of the field is our house. If it
weren't for the woods, you'd have a straight shot at the house."
"So?" Carl said, still clearly baffled as to what Rose was'
getting at.
"It's the embankment," Rose said. "I think you ought to know
about it. It's very steep, and it can be treacherous,
particularly when the wind blows from the north. The sea can get
wild out there, and the spray turns the face of the embankment
into glass. There have been some accidents..." Her voice trailed
off; then, catching the worried look in Barbara's eyes, she went
on. "Oh, not for a long time," she said. "Not in this century, as
far as we know. We've always been very careful about it, and the
children are not allowed to go anywhere near it. In the Conger
family, for generations children haven't been allowed to play
either in the woods or on the embankment. Not only is it
dangerous, but it's practically invisible. You can't see the face
of the embankment from any point on our property, and only from a
couple of spots over here. From your house it's totally out of
sight. All you can see is the forest."


 113

bara smiled at him appreciatively, but Rose appeared not to have
heard the remark. She strode forward, and they walked for about a
hundred feet before she stopped.
"There," she said, pointing.
Carl and Barbara stared out to sea, their eyes sweeping the
horizon. The ocean was clear of boats and ships, an expanse of
gray-green water broken only by the horizon and Conger's Point
jutting out to sea another hundred yards south of them.
"It's beautiful," Barbara said. "But I don't know what I'm
looking for."
"The Point," Rose said. "From here.you have a good view of the
north face of it. The woods at the top are really a pretty
shallow stand. On the other side of the woods is our field, and,
of course, on the other side of the field is our house. If it
weren't for the woods, you'd have a straight shot at the house."
"So?" Carl said, still clearly baffled as to what Rose was'
getting at.
"It's the embankment," Rose said. "I think you ought to know
about it. It's very steep, and it can be treacherous,
particularly when the wind blows from the north. The sea can get
wild out there, and the spray turns the face of the embankment
into glass. There have been some accidents..." Her voice trailed
off; then, catching the worried look in Barbara's eyes, she went
on. "Oh, not for a long time," she said. "Not in this century, as
far as we know. We've always been very careful about it, and the
children are not allowed to go anywhere near it. In the Conger
family, for generations children haven't been allowed to play
either in the woods or on the embankment. Not only is it
dangerous, but it's practically invisible. You can't see the face
of the embankment from any point on our property, and only from a
couple of spots over here. From your house it's totally out of
sight. All you can see is the forest."

I


114 JOHNSAUL

"Why haven't you cut the forest down?" Barbara said thoughtfully.
"It wouldn't be as pretty, but at least you'd be able to see if
any of the kids are playing along the top."
Rose smiled tightly. "I suggested it once. Part of it, of course,
is the esthetics. Also, there's the wind. The woods protect .the
house pretty well when the wind is from the north. Which it is,
during the winter. And, of course, the privacy thing. The Congers
always liked the idea that none of their neighbors could see
them."
"It's nice to be able to afford that sort of luxury," Carl
murmured.
Rose nodded. "Very nice. If you can afford it, which we barely
can. A couple of more tax hikes and we won't be able to afford it
at all." She realized she was saying more than she probably
ought, then realized that she didn't really care; in fact, it was
nice to be able to admit to someone, anyone, that the Congers
weren't what they used to be. Still, she decided it was time to
get back to the subject at hand.
"So that's what I wanted to show you," she said. "Of course, you
can do what you want, but I'd advise you to tell Jeff not to go
anywhere near the place."-
"Which would send him there directly, the minute our backs were
turned," Barbara said. "I think we'll just have to trust to his
good sense." She noted the expression on Rose's face, and her
smile faded. "Is there something else?" she asked.
Rose hesitated a minute, then spoke again. "Yes," she said,
glancing once more at her watch. "I don't have time to go into it
all, but there's a legend about the embankment. There may be a
cave there, and it's really quite dangerous." Rose smiled
uncertainly. "I've got to be getting home. Both the girls will be
there, and I don't like to leave them for long with nobody but
Mrs. Goodrich."
"Mrs. Goodrich?"

 115

"The housekeeper. She's getting older she must be nearly seventy
and terribly set in her ways, but she's been with the family
since long before Jack was born."
They chatted a little more on the way back to the Stevenses' new
house, but Rose didn't go in again. She felt a sudden urge to get
home.
Minutes later, shewas striding along the Point Road, skirting the
west end of the strip of woods. She saw a squirrel playing in one
of the trees, something she normally would have taken a few
minutes to enjoy, but she didn't give it a second glance. She
passed the woods, and was walking along the edge of the field.
Suddenly she stopped. Coming out of the woods, about one hundred
and fifty yards from Rose, was Elizabeth. A couple of seconds
later, Sarah, too, emerged from the woods. Rose felt her stomach
tighten as she watched her children cross the field toward home.
She didn't call out to them; indeed, she didn't even move until
she saw them disappear into the house. Then, when they were no
longer visible, she continued on her way. But her pace was slow,
and her mind was filled with thoughts. None of them made any
sense. All .of them were foreboding.
When she got home, she didn't call out a greeting. Instead, she
went directly to the small study at the rear of the house, poured
herself a drink, and sat in the wing chair. As she waited for her
husband to come home, she studied the old portrait above the
mantel.
It did look like Elizabeth. So much like Elizabeth.
She sipped the drink, stared at the picture and waited.

She was still in the wing chair an hour later, when Jack came
home. She heard his voice calling out as he opened the front
door, heard the answer come from Elizabeth upstairs. Rose
remained silent, and listened


116 

tO his footsteps approach the study. She was watching the door
when he came through. His eyes widened in surprise; then he
grinned at her.
"Are we doing a role reversal? I'm the one who's supposed to sit
brooding in the chair with a drink in my fist." His smile faded
as he watched his wife's face. "Is something wrong?" he asked,
and Rose was pleased to hear a concern that sounded genuine.
"Fix yourself a drink and sit down," she said. "And you might as
well fix this one up. The ice has melted."
He took her glass, refilled it, and poured himself a neat Scotch.
Setting Rose's drink on the table at her
elbow, he seated himself opposite her. "So what's up? Sarah?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure, really." She recounted her
day, skipping over most of it until she reached the end. She went
over her final conversation with the Stevenses in detail, trying
to remember exactly what she had told them. When she finished, he
didn't seem particularly disturbed.
"Then what has you so upset?" he asked.
"On my way home, I saw the girls coming out of the woods. First
Elizabeth, then Sarah."
"I see," Jack said quietly. "And you want me to talk to them?"
"Not both of them. Just Elizabeth. I don't care what
you tell her, but convince her to stay away from there." "Shall I
tell her about the legend?" "If you want."
"Well, Lord knows, if that won't do it nothing will. That legend
has kept four generations of Congets away from that embankment."
"Four?" Rose said. "That many?"
"I think so," Jack 'said. He counted briefly on his fingers.
"Nope. I'm the third. If it works, Elizabeth and Sarah will be
the fourth. Well, no time like the present." He finished his
drink and left the room.
Alone, Rose continued sipping from her glass and

 117

staring at the portrait. For some reason, Carl Stevens's words
echoed in her mind. "The sins of the fathers..."
Then she remembered the rest of the quotation, and she shuddered:
"... even unto the third and fourth generations."

Jack climbed the stairs slowly, wondering what he would tell his
daughter. At the top he paused and squared his shoulders. The
truth, he guessed. Or at least what the Congets had thought was
some sort of truth, among themselves, for more years than he
knew.
He found them in the playroom. A frown creased his brow as he saw
what they were doing.. Between them was the Ouija board, and
Elizabeth seemed to be concentrating on it. Sarah was
concentrating on Elizabeth. Jack cleared his throat, and when
nothing happened he spoke.
"Elizabeth," he said, and regretted the sharp sound that filled
the room. His daughters jumped a little, and Elizabeth opened her
eyes.
"Daddy! Did you come up to play with us?"
"I came up to talk to you. Alone." His eyes shifted to Sarah on
the last word, and Elizabeth picked up on the message. She stood
up, then leaned over to whisper into her sister's ear. Sarah, to
Jack's eye, did not respond, but Elizabeth seemed to be satisfied
that Sarah would be all right by herself. She followed him as he
led her out of the playroom and into her own room. When she was
inside he closed the door, and Elizabeth knew that she had done
something wrong. She sat on the edge of her bed and regarded her
father respectfully.
"It's the woods, isn't it?" she said.
Her father looked at her sternly. "Yes," he said, "it is. Unless
I'm badly mistaken, it was only yesterday that we had a talk
about that. Now I understand you were in the woods today. With
Sarah."
Elizabeth looked straight into his eyes, and he tried


118 
to find a clue in her own as to her mood. He wonde'ed if she
would be defiant, or angry, or stubborn. But he saw only
curiosity.
"I know," she said. "I don't really know why I took Sarah to the
woods today. We were in the field, playing, and then we were in
the woods. I must have been thinking about something else,
because I honestly don't remember going into the woods. The only
thing I remember is suddenly realizing we were in the woods, and
leading Sarah back out to the field."
Jack listened to his daughter silently, trying to decide if she
was being truthful. He remembered his own youth, and all the
times he had become so engrossed in something that he had lost
track of his surroundings. He supposed it could have happened.
"Well," he said, "I expect you not to let it happen again. You're
a big girl now, and you should be able _to keep your mind on what
you're doing. Or at least where you are, particularly when Sarah
is with you."
"I take good care o£ her," Elizabeth said, and Jack thought he
heard a defensive note in her voice.
"Of course you do," he said soothingly. "But please take good
care of her only on this side of those woods." Now he definitely
saw anger in Elizabeth's face. The beautiful features hardened
slightly, and he realized he was going to have to amplify. While
she posed the question, he tried to figure out where to begin his
answer.
"I want to know why," she was saying. "I think it's getting
absolutely silly. I'm old enough to go where I want to go, at
least on our own property. When I was ' little, it was one thing.
But I'm not little any more. You said so yourself," she finished.
"You're going to think we're all crazy," Jack said.
"Are we?" Elizabeth asked, but there was no twinkle in her eye.
"Who knows?" Jack replied, keeping his tone light.

 119

"Okay, I'll tell you the story. There's an old family legend."
"I know," Elizabeth said.
"You know?" Now Jack couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.
"How?"
Elizabeth widened her eyes and tried to look spooky. "The Ouija
board," she intoned. "It knows all and it tells all." Then she
burst into laughter at the expression on her father's face. It
was a mixture of awe, surprise, and fright. 'Tin kidding, Dad,"
she said. "I don't know what it's all about." She thought
carefully, then went on. 'In fact, I don't really know what I
know and what I don't know, or where I found out. But I know
there's some kind of story and it goes back a long way. What is
it?"
Jack felt a strange sense of relief that she did not know the
legend, and he began to tell it to her.
"It does go back a long way," he said. "Your mother and I were
just figuring it out, and it's four generations, counting you and
Sarah. It has to do with your greatgreat-grandmother. It all
happened somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred years ago,
and she was already an old, old lady then. I don't know how many
of the details I can remember, since I don't think anybody ever
wrote the story down, but here's what is supposed to have
happened:
"The old woman I think her name was Bernice or Bertha, something
like that was in the habit of taking a nap every day after
dinner, which was what we'd call lunch nowadays. Apparently every
day she'd go upstairs and sle. ep for an hour, then come back
down, and that was that. Except that one day she didn't come back
down."
"You mean she died?" Elizabeth asked.
"No," Jack said. "She didn't die. When she didn't come down from
her nap, they went upstairs, I imagine expecting to find her
dead, but she wasn't. She was still asleep.


120 

"To make a long story short, the legend has it that she slept for
two days and two nights, solid. They tried to wake her up, and
couldn't. They called a doctor, but he couldn't find anything
wrong with her at all. I suppose she might have had some kind of
stroke and gone into a coma, but at the time they didn't know
much about such things. Anyway, she eventually woke up, and she
didn't seem to have anything wrong with her.
"I suppose the family would have forgotten about it, except that
a couple of days later one of the old lady's sons, who would have
been my great-uncle, I think, walked into the house carrying a
dead rabbit. Then he
proceeded to jump off the cliff behind the house." "You're
kidding," Elizabeth breathed.
Jack shook his head. "If I am, then your grandfather kidded me
when he told me the story."
"But why did he do it?" Elizabeth asked.
"No one ever found out." Jack shrugged. "Or if they did, they
never told anybody. Anyway, when the old lady heard about it, she
wasn't surprised. Apparently she said she'd been expecting it.
And from then on until she died, she told everybody who was going
to die, and when. She said she had gotten all the information in
a dream she had while she'd been sleeping those two days."
"And she was never wrong?" Elizabeth asked doubtfully.
"Who knows? You know the way stories grow. She could have been
wrong most of the time, but the only thing anybody would remember
and pass along would be the times she was right. She probably
predicted everybody's death every day, so sooner or later she hit
the nail on the head. It's like astrologers. They say so
much that some of the things have to be right." "Then what's the
big deal?" Elizabeth said.
"Well, the last straw came just before she died. She claimed
she'd had a vision."
"A vision? You mean like angels or ghosts?"

 121

"Not quite. A vision, but not of angels. She claimed that in the
vision she had been taken to a cave in the embankment. Inside the
cave, she was shown a shaft that led straight down. Her 'angel,'
or whatever it was supposed to be, told her that the shaft was
the gates of hell. According to the old lady, all sorts of awful
things were supposed to happen if anybody ever went through the
gates of hell. Or, I suppose, down the shaft. Anyway, she told
the family that she had seen visions of horrible things in the
future, and that the only way to keep them from happening was to
see to it that no one went near that cave. She made everyone in
the family. swear never to go near the embankment where the cave
is supposed to be. Then she died."
Elizabeth stared at him silently for a minute before
she spoke. He could hear incredulity in her voice. "Is there
really a cave there?" "I don't have any idea."
"You mean they believed her?" Elizabeth said. "You mean nobody
ever even went to look for it?"
Jack licked his lips uncomfortably. "Someone did," he said
slowly. "My grandfather."
"Did he find it?" Elizabeth asked eagerly.
"No," Jack said. He hoped he could leave it at that, but
Elizabeth wouldn't let him.
"Well, what happened?" she demanded.
"No one knows about that, either. He announced one day that he.,
was going to find the cave, i there was a cave, and headed off by
himself. When he didn't come back, a search party went to find
him."
"Did they?" Elizabeth asked. "Find him, I mean?" "They found him.
They found him at the bottom of the embankment. His foot was
wedged between two rocks, and he had apparently drowned when the
tide came in."
An expression of horror came over Elizabeth's face. "What an
awful way to die," she said softly.
"Yes," said Jack, "it is. The odd thing was that they


122 

couldn't figure out exactly what happened. His foot was caught,
but not tightly. He should have been able to get it loose without
any trouble."
"Maybe he fell," Elizabeth suggested.. "Maybe, but they didn't
find any bruises that would have indicated it. Well," he
finished, "that's it. Whatever the truth of it, the whole family
has always respected the old lady's dying wish. Except for my
grandfather. If nothing else, it gives us a reason for staying
away from a dangerous place. I hope you'll respect it as much as
the rest of us have."
Elizabeth was very quiet, and when she spoke her voice was low.
"'Daddy," she said. "Do you believe it?"
Jack considered the question, and could find no answer. He had
lived with the legend for so long that it never entered his mind
to question the truth of it. Now, looking at it in the cold light
of his daughter's ice-blue stare, he shook his head.
"No," he said, "I don't suppose I do, really. On the other hand,
I don't believe it's bad luck to walk under a ladder, but I still
don't walk under ladders. So maybe, deep down inside, I do
believe the legend."
Elizabeth seemed to digest this for a minute, and Jack was about
to lean over to kiss her when she asked another question.
"What about the little girl?" she said. "What little girl?" Jack
asked blanldy.
"I'm not sure," Elizabeth said. "It seems to me that I've heard
somewhere that there was a Ytfle girl in the legend."
Jack reviewed the story in his mind, then shook his head.
"No," he said. "Not that I know of:"
"Well," Elizabeth said, "there should be. Let's make one up." Now
Jack could see the glint of mischief in her eyes.
"You do that," he said. "And tell me about it over dinner. See
you downstairs in thirty minutes."

 123

He kissed her, then left the room. As he descended the stairs, he
heard her calling after him.
"I'll ask the Ouija board about it," she said.
He heard her laugh as she went back to the play-
room.


10

"What exactly did you tell her?"
Rose spoke in the dark, and her voice seemed to bounce off the
walls and come back at her more loudly than she desired. Beside
her, she felt Jack stir. She was sure he wasn't sleeping, but it
was almost a minute before he answered her. In the silence, she
began counting the ticking of the grandfather clock. She had
reached forty when Jack finally spoke.
"The whole thing," he said. "The idea was to keep her away from
the embankment, wasn't it?"
"I suppose so," Rose said unsurely. "How did she take it?"
She heard Jack chuckle in the darkness. "How would you take a
story like that in this day and age? I'm not sure family legends
and curses count for much any more."
"But a lot of it happened," Rose said.
"Some of it happened," Jack countered. "Granted that the old lady
slept for a couple of days, that someone jumped off the cliff and
someone else drowned. It still doesn't add up to much. And, of
course, the old lady's vision at the end was probably nothing
more than senility." He rolled over. "Still, it makes a good
spooky .story, and it's sure kept us all off the embankment for a
lot of years."
"How did she take it?" Rose. repeated. "Didn't she say anything?"


126 

Jack smiled in the darkness. "She wanted to know about the little
girl."
"Little girl?" Rose said. "What little girl? I never heard of a
little girl before."
"Of course not. There isn't any. It just gtruck Elizabeth that
there ought to have been a little girl involved in the legend.
She said she thought she heard about one somewhere, but couldn't
remember where. She said she'd consult the Ouija board."
Rose felt herself begin to shudder, but fought it off. "Ouija
board," she said. "I'm not sure we should let her play with such
a thing. Children are too suggestible."
She rolled over and nestled against her husband. She felt his
body stiffen. Sighing, she moved away from him.

In her room, Elizabeth lay in her bed, listening to the murmur of
her parent's voices. As the voices died away, the girl's eyes
closed; then her breathing evened out and grew deeper. As the
clock struck, her eyelids began to flicker. A sound struggled
from her throat, then died away on her lips. She turned, and the
covers fell to the floor. Her knees drew up, and she wrapped her
arms around herself.
And then she rose from the bed.
She .padded on her bare feet across the floor of her room and out
into the hall. She moved, trancelike, to the attic door and
stretched upward to take the key from the ledge above. Avoiding
the loose third tread, Elizabeth glided up the steep stairs into
the attic, unaware of the silent Sarah, who stood quietly
watching the ascent.
After Elizabeth disappeared into the upper reaches of the house,
Sarah returned to her bed, where she lay staring blankly at the
ceiling.
Elizabeth stayed in the attic for an hour, but what

 127

she did there, and what she saw, didn't register on her memory.

Lying awake, Rose felt as if she were suffocating. She tried to
ignore the feeling, but it persisted. Finally, in frustration,
she left her bed and went to sit by the window. Moodily, she sat
and smoked and peered out into the night. There was a full moon,
and shadows played across the field. It was peaceful, she
thought, and she considered going for a walk. The cliff would be
beautiful, with the light dancing on the sea, and the surf,
turned silvery by the moon, crashing below her. And then, as
suddenly as the feeling of suffocation had come over her, it left
her. She crushed the cigarette out and went back to bed. In a
moment she was asleep.
Had she stayed by the window, she might not have returned to her
bed, for she might have seen the shape moving across the field.

Elizabeth crossed the porch at the moment tat Rose went back to
bed. She moved slowly, carefully toward the field, as if feeling
her way with her feet. Then, suddenly, she turned and began
walking quickly toward the old barn that stood a few yards from
the garage. She let herself in by the side door and moved to the
tack room. She picked up a bag and a strange coil of rope and
wood. She slung the coil over her head, grasped the neck of the
bag, and left the barn. Then, her step no longer cautious, she
moved across the field toward the wood. Soon she was enveloped in
its black shadows. The dress Elizabeth wore was old much older
than any of the clothes she kept for playing in the field. Its
ruffled hem caught on branches as she drew nearer the woods, but
the ancient material gave way with so little resistance that she
felt no pull. Her blond hair, flowing over her shoulders in an
old-fashioned way,

128 

caught the moonlight and, from a distance, seemed to form a halo
around her head.
She moved surely and gracefully, her eyes staring directly ahead
into the blackness before her. There was no path or trail, but
she advanced as easily as though the way had been paved. Though
the shadows were deep, and the underbrush thick, her feet found
the places where no branches waited to trip her, or stones to
bruise her foot, or vines'to ensnare her.
And then Elizabeth emerged from the woods, and stood on the top
of the embankment, staring out across the sea. It was gentle that
night, and the surf murmured below, softly, invitingly.
Elizabeth began mov'mg eastward along the edge of the embankment,
slowly, as if waiting for some sort of signal to tell her she was
at the right place. Then she stopped again, and stared once more
out to sea. Finally she began moving down the steep face of the
embankment, her small feet finding holds that would have been
useless to a larger person. Occasionally her free hand moved out
as if to steady herself, but most often it stopped short of
touching anything. She moved steadily downward, disappearing now
and then from the moonlight, then reemerging a few feet lower
than before. Finally she disappeared into the shadow of a
boulder, and crept into a hole that lay hidden in the blackness.
Fifty feet farther down, the surf pounded against the Point.
Elizabeth crawled through the tunnel of the cave, pulling the
long skirt up every few minutes, then creeping farther forward
until the dress grew taut as She crawled across it. Then she
would pause again, and pull the material from under her knees,
spreading it once more before her. She felt her way forward,
pushing the bag carefully, as if it would disappear if she pushed
it too far. Then she stopped, crept as far over the bag as she
could, and felt the floor of the cave in front of her. At the end
of her reach she felt the lip of a shaft.

 129

She moved a litfie closer to the edge and poked around in the
depths of the bag. Her hand dosed on a flashlight, and she drew
it out. She tested it a couple of times, flashing the narrow beam
on the walls that closed in around her. The tunnel widened into a
room around the shaft, and the shaft itseft appeared to be a
'well in the center of an oval room whose floor was littered with
boulders.
Elizabeth removed the co'fled object from around her neck, and,
still clutching the flashlight, moved to the edge of the shaft.
She pointed the light downward and stared into the depths. Far
below, she wasn't sure how far, the light glinted on something
that lay on the bottom of the shaft.
She laid the flashlight carefully in a cleft of stone, and
jiggled it a little to be sure it was secure. Then she began
uncoiling the object she had carried from the barn. It was a rope
ladder that had once provided primitive access to the left. For
years it had lain in the tack room: the left was no longer used,
and the ladder had been deemed a danger to playing children.
Elizabeth began wedging the ends of the rope into cracks in the
boulders, chinking the rope tighter with bits of stone that lay
scattered across the cavern floor. Finally she tested the ropes,
pulling on them as hard as she could, bracing her legs against
the boulders. The rope held.
She pushed the rest of the coil over the lip of the shaft. It
clattered against the side of the shaft, then caught. She pulled
it back to the surface and carefully untangled it. The second
time, as she fed it carefully over the edge, it fell straight to
the bottom. She felt a slight vibration as the bottom rung struck
the floor below.
She picked up the bag and dropped it over the edge. She heard a
soft thunk as it too hit the bottom. Then she worked the
flashlight loose from its crevice, put


130 Jogs SAUL

it in a pocket of her dress, and began making her way down the
ladder.
It was slow going, but Elizabeth didn't seem to notice the slime
that rubbed off the walls of the shaft as she crept carefully
from rung to rung, nor did the darkness tighten her. She felt the
cool stone touch the sole of her foot as she found the bottom of
the shaft. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the
flashlight.
The yellowish beam ckered around the chamber at the bottom of the
shaft. It was very much like the chamber above: smaller, and with
a lower ceiling, but oval, and with a fiat, rock-strewn floor.
The shaft opened almost in the center of the small chamber.
Elizabeth played the light over the floor of the cavern, and the
object which had glinted from above suddenly flashed once more.
It was a gold bracelet, set with a small opal.
It was still on the wrist of its owner.
The skeleton lay directly below the opening of the shaft,
sprawled in the position in which it had lain through the
decades. Here and there small pieces of rotten cloth still clung
to it, but they disintegrated into dust when Elizabeth touched
them. The sack lay near it, where Elizabeth had dropped it, its
impact having scattered some of the ribs across the floor.
Elizabeth retrieved the bag and set it aside. Then she played the
light over the skull. She picked up a rusted metal barrette that
lay next to the skull and examined it carefully. She nodded to
herself.
"I knew you were here," she whispered. "Everything will be all
right now. You'H see."
She left the skeleton for a moment and found a new resting place
for the flashlight. She left it on and trained it on the spot
where the ancient bones gleamed palely in its light.
Elizabeth worked slowly, moving the bones carefully. She laid
them out at one edge of the chamber,

 131

close to one of the wails. She found a small flat reek to cushion
the skull, and when she was finished the remains lay on their
back, the arms folded peacefully over the rib cage. Elizabeth
smiled at the corpse, and there was a strange light in her eyes
as she removed the bracelet from the fleshless wrist and slipped
it onto her own.
She began moving some of the rocks around, wresfling a large one
with a fairly flat surface into the center of the cavern. Then
she moved four other, smaller rocks to form stools around the
rough table. She placed the bag on the table and sat down on one
of the stools.
From the bag she began removing a set of doll's clothing: a small
blue dress, tiny stockings, and a pair of miniature
patent-leather Mary Janes, together with a pair of white mittens
and a small ruffled bonnet.
Then she opened the sack and Gee'ft. lay on the rock slab, his
body limp, his head at a strange angle from the broken neck that
had killed him.
Elizabeth began dressing the dead cat in the dolts clothes,
carefully working the dress over his head, front legs, and torso,
forcing the forepaws through the sleeves, and meticulously
buttoning the dress up along his spine.
Then she worked the tiny socks over his hindpaws, and forced the
stockinged paws into the miniature shoes. She slipped the mittens
onto the forepaws and, finally, put the bonnet on Cecil's head,
tying the strings securely under his chin.
"Pretty baby," she murmured as she finished. "Aren't you my
pretty baby?"
She set the grotesquely costumed animal on the rock opposite her
and watched as it collapsed to the cavern floor. She tried to set
it up twice more, but each time it fell. Finally she collected a
number of small rocks and built a small pile of stones that would
support the weight of the corpse. Eventually the dead Cecil sat
propped across from her, its boxmeted head lolling


132 JOn SAVL

weirdly to one side. Elizabeth seemed not to notice the unnatural
pose.
"And now we'll have a party," she said. "Would you like some
tea?"
Her right hand picked up an imaginary teapot, and she skillfully
poured from it into an equally invisible cup that she held
steadily in her left hand. She set the imaginary cup in front of
the dead eat.
"One lump or two?" she asked politely, offering her guest a bowl
of sugar. Without waiting for an answer, she mimed placing two
lumps of sugar in the cup that was not on the table.
"Well," she said, smiling brightly, "isn't this nice?"
Elizabeth waited, staring across at the tightly closed eyes of
the cat.
"Are you sleeping?" she asked. She reached across the table and
prodded the corpse with one finger. Then she left her seat and
moved around to kneel beside Cecil. She carefrilly forced each
eye open, peering the lids far back until they did not snap shut
again when she released them. She went back to her seat.
"There," she said. "Now we can have a nice conversation. Would
you like a piece of cake?" Elizabeth picked up an imaginary cake
plate and offered it to the vacantly staring cat. When there was
no response, she pretended to scoop a slice of the cake onto a
plate that was apparently already waiting in front of Cecil.
"Now," she said, pausing to take a bite of the cake that wasn't
there and wash it down with a swallow of the imaginary tea. "What
would you like to talk about?"
She waited for a response again and glared at the limp,
unresponsive body that sat propped across from her. Empty eyes
stared back at her.
"It's very rude not to talk when you're spoken to," she said
softly. "Nice children answer questions."
There was still no response from the corpse, and Elizabeth's face
flushed with anger.

 133

"Answer me when I speak to you," she snapped. Still there was no
response.
She peered balefully at the cat, and her eyes flashed in the
strange yellow glow of the flashlight.
"Talk to me," she demanded, a hard edge of hatred coming into her
voice. "You talk to me, you disgusting childI"
Elizabeth's anger mounted as the dead thing across from her
failed to respond to her demands, and her voice rose and grew
shrill.
"Don't you sit there like that, you bastard!" she yelled. "That's
all you ever do. I spend my life with you, and what do I get from
you7 Nothing. Nothing.t Well, now you'll talk to me, or I'll beat
your ass bloody."
She suddenly leapt at the eat, grabbing the corpse and yanking it
across the table. She flipped it over, held it on her knee, and
began spanJclng it. The slapping of her hand against the cat's
haunches echoed back at her, and she put all her strength into
the beating she was administering. Then she set the cat back on
the rock and smiled at it.
"There," she said. "Now that you've had what you deserve, we can
get back to our tea party."
She went on chattering mindlessly for a few moments, miming the
actions of refilling the cups and plates she imagined were before
her. Then she asked the cat another question and waited for a l
response. When there was none, her anger flashed back, flooding
over her like a red tide.
"Don't you do that to me, you fueking no-good monsterl" she
screamed. "I hate it when you do that to me. Hate it, hate it,
hate iff'
As her voice rose, she grabbed the cat and began swinging it over
her head, then brought. it crashing down on the stone table. In
her rage, she didn't hear the crushing of the skull.


134 JOBq SAUL

"You'll answer me," she raved. "God damn you, you'H talk to me or
I'H kill youl"
Suddenly she hurled the cat against the wall of the cave and
grabbed the bag once more. She reached deep into it, and when she
withdrew her hand she clutched a large butcher knife. Her anger
eresting, she fell on the cat's limp body and began slashing at
it .with the knife, her voice rising as she cursed the
unresponsive animal.
Suddenly she had the eat on the table again, and the kn'ffe
flashed through the air once more. Cecil's severed head rolled
away from the torso and fell to the floor. Elizabeth stared at
it, not comprehending what had happened.
· "Don't do that," she breathed. "Don't do that to me. I want you
to talk to me. Talk to rne.t" she screamed once more, then
stopped, her breath coming in gasps. She;felt a pain throbbing
through her head, and heard
something that, sounded like wind. Then the pain passed,° and'the
sounds of the wind faded into a strange
wlftmpering from above. She looked up halo the darkness of the
shaft.
Se(mg nothing, she found the flashlight, and shined t upSlard.
The ,beam uminated Sarah's dark face, her huge brown eyes
blinking in the glare of the light.
Elizabeth smiled up at her, and her face soRened. "Sarah," she
almost whispered. "Did you see? Did you see that naughty baby?
She isn't like you. She isn't like you at all. You're such a
sweet gift, so sweet ·.." She turned back to look once more at
the decapitated feline body, which lay, still clothed, on the
rough rock. Then the light picked up the head, still encased in
the old-fashioned bonnet, the eyes dully reflecting the glare.
from the flashlight.
"You should have talked to me," she hissed. "Really, you should
have." She picked up the knife and placed it carefully on a ledge
near the ceiling of the cavern.
Then she slipped the flashlight, still glowing, into

T


 135

her pocket and began to make her way back up the rope ladder.
Sarah crept back from the edge as Elizabeth emerged from the pit.
"It's late," Elizabeth whispered. "But not too late." Then she
slipped the bracelet that was still on her wrist off her own arm
and onto Sarah's.
"This is for you," she said. "It's from Beth. She wants you to
have it. She says it should belong to you."
Ignoring Sarah now, Elizabeth crept through the tunnel and
emerged once more into the night. Quickly, she made her way back
up the face of the embankment and disappeared into the woods.

Elizabeth lay once more in her bed, staring at the ce'mg. She
wished she could fail asleep again, but she couldn't. She had
awakened from a dream which had fled as she opened her eyes, and
now sleep would not come to her. She thought she heard a noise
outside, and went to the window. There, mng her way slowly across
the field, she saw her sister. Elizabeth went downstairs and met
Sarah at the front door.
She was covered with mud and slime, and her hands were badly
scratched. She stared helplessly up at Elka-

Silently Elizabeth took Sarah upstairs and into the bathroom. She
cleaned her sister up and threw the filthy clothes into the
laundry chute. Then she tucked Sarah into bed.
Elizabeth wondered where Sarah had been. But soon she slept. It
was a peaceful sleep, and there were no more dreams.


11

Mrs. Goodrich opened the trapdoor at the bottom of the laundry
chute and watched the clothes tumble to the floor at her feet.
She picked up a particularly dirty pair of blue jeans with a
ragged tear at the knee and looked at them critically.
"Just look at that," she said to the empty room. "I've never in
my life seen anything so filthy. Looks like she's been crawling
around in some kinda slime."
She fished out an equally dirt-encrusted shirt and examined it
carefully. The filth had dried overnight, and it flecked off into
the old woman's hand as she held the shirt to the fight.
She sniffed at it, and her face wrinkled even more deeply as she
recoiled from the smell of rotting seaweed. Her face tightened,
and she turned toward the laundry-room door with an air of
determination.
She found Rose and Jack Conger sitting silently in the dining
room, and would have noticed the strain in the air if she hadn't
had other things on her mind. She stumped into the room without
her usual pause, and Jack looked up curiously. Mrs. Goodrich
ignored him.
"Miz Rose," she complained, her Yankee twang taking on a hint of
outrage. "Just look at these. I don't know how I'm supposed to
get things like this clean." She held the shirt up for Rose's
inspection, primarily because the filth showed up better against
the white of the shirt than the blue of the denim. Mrs. Goodrich
was




a great believer in the best effects delivering the best restfit.
She shook the shirt slightly, for good measure, and was gratified
to see some of the dried mud flutter to the carpet. The vacuum
would take care of that.
"What is it?" Rose asked curiously. "It looks like mud."
"Mud? You call that mud? I call it slime." She held the shirt
nearer, and Rose was able to get a good whiff.
"It smells like dead fish," Rose commented, wondering what was
expected of her. "Whose is it?"
"Miss Sarah's," Mrs. Goodrich stated. "I don't know what that
childls been up to, but it should be stopped. She ,didn't get
this dirt from playing in the yard, or even the field. I don't
know how I can get it out." She did know, of course, but saw no
point in admitting it. Over the years she had discovered that
life was much easier ff she feigned incompetence, and this seemed
like a good time to exercise that knowledge.
"Well, do your best," Rose said, still not sure how she was
supposed to deal with the situation. "I don't really see how we
can find out where she picked up that dirt, under the
circumstances."
Mrs. Goodrich, her feelings aired, stumped back out of the room,
leaving the air filled with gnnnblings. Rose thought she heard a
reference to things like this not happening in the old days, and
wondered if it could have been true. Then she saw Jack staring at
her, and suddenly felt uncomfortable. Briefly she wondered what
had happened to the peace they had had so recently.
"Well, what was I supposed to say?" she said, feeling a little
guilty but not sure why.
"Nothing," Jack said. "Don't worry about the dirt-Mrs. Goodrich
can handle that with a good hard look. But where did Sarah pick
it up?"
"I'm sure I don't know," Rose snapped. "Why don't you ask her?"

 139

':That's Cruel, Rose,, Jack said .quietly. "And not
· _lust to me. It's cruel to Sarah, too,.." .
Ros2ici0I'a/;iiep breath, yen exhaled slowly, willing the tension
from her body. She chewed her:lower lip for a moment, then tried
to smile at her husband.
'Tm sorry," she said: "Of course you're right: But, God, Jack,
what am I supposed to do about it? If she went somewhere by
herself there's 'absolutely no way in the world that we?re:going
to find out where it was,"
"It probably has something to do with the scratches," Jack aid.
Rose nodded. "And she could have gotten those anYr where."
Then they looked at each other and they both 'membered: Early'
this morning, Rose had looked in on
Sarah. The child had thrown her blanket off in the

night, and as Rose bent to cover her she saw that Sarah's 'hands
were' badly scratched, and =onC knee was scraped; Bt she
hadbenctean.-The wounds.had been. dean too. They'd assumed .that
something had. ha pened during the night, that the wounds had
been somehow self-inflicted. But now, with the thy clothing, they
had to reassess the whole .thing. They each avoided the. subject
in a different way: Rose bystlrring her coffee moodily, Jack' by
mopping up the last of his egg with a piece of danish.
"It did smell like the sea," Rose said at last.
"Around here everything smells like the sea," lack countered.
"I suppose she could have decided to go down to the beach."
"In the middle of the night?" Jack said. "Besides, that trail's
not slimy, and it's an easy trail. Even if it was pitch-black,
all you have to do is keep one hand on the guardrail and walk.
And the beach is sand."
"There are rocks," Rose offered, and it was true. There were
rocks on the beach, but they weren't of the rough variety. They
were, for the most part, beach


140 OHN SUL

pebbles worn smooth by years of tumbling in the light surf of the
south side of the Point. The rough rocks, both of them knew, were
on the north side, jutting out of the face of the embankment.
Neither of them was willing to confront that possibility yet.
"What about the quarry?" Jack asked suddenly. "She cotrid have
walked over to the quarry for some reason. It's always muddy
there, and God knows those old slag heaps are hard on the hands."
Rose stared speculatively into space and tried to be-lieve in the
idea of the quarry. It would be easy, except for the smell. Her
nose wrinkled as she remembered the awful rotting kelp odor that
had permeated the shirt, She decided to put it out of her mind.
"Well, I don't see that there's a thing we can do about it now,"
she said. "It's too late. Besides, we've got other things to
worry about," she added pointedly.
Jack felt the familiar sick feeling begin to form in his stomach,
the feeling he was not getting used to"and was experiencing more
and more.
"Don't you think things are bad enough?" he asked, his voice
carrying a quaver that he hoped Rose wouldn't hear. "Let's not
make them any worse."
"How could it get any worse," Rose said bitterly. She kept her
voice low, ready to break off the conversation if she heard the
children coming downstairs. But she was not about to let it go.
She remembered the previous night his rejection, her long,
thoughtful vigil at the window and wondered how many more of them
there would be, how many more of them she would be able to stand
without blowing apart from the rage, the frustration, and the
humiliation.
Last night she had taken herself in hand and squeezed her anger
back, forcing herself to sleep through it. But this morning it
was still there, waiting to be served up to Jack along with his
coffee; and orange juice. He had not been surprised.

 141

"Don't you think it's time you got back into therapy?" she asked
softly, trying another tack.
"I don't want to go into it," Jack said sourly. "The subject or
the therapy?"
"Take your pick," he said. "Is there a difference?" "That
depends," Rose said, deliberately keeping the poison out of her
voice. "I know you don't get off on therapy "
"I don't get off at all," Jack finished for her. "You're getting
predictable."
"And you aren't?" Rose snapped, no longer bothering to hide the
hostility she was feeling. "Listen to me," she hissed as he began
turning away, as if his back might shield him from her words.
"It's no good, Jack, it's just no good. I'm a normal woman, with
normal desires, and I deserve some kind of normal satisfaction.
Although God knows why I shotrid expect that in a home that's
anything but normal. Maybe there's nothing we can do for Sarah,
but I should think that you, at least, would want to do what you
can before you get just like her."
"It's not that easy " Jack began, but she didn't give him time to
defend himself.
"What is easy? Is it easy to live with a man like you? Easy to
live with a child like Sarah? Easy to keep on acting as if
nothing is the matter? Business as usual? How long do you think I
can keep it up? God knows, every woman that's ever married into
this family has had her hands full just being the latest Mrs.
Conger for this godforsaken village. But that's not enough, not
any more. Not only do I have to be Mrs. Conger, but I have to be
a loving mother to a traumatized child, a loving wife to an
impotent husband, and push real estate on the side."
"You don't have to do that," Jack put in, gabbing at the only
available straw.
"Don't I?" Rose demanded. "Don't I? Well, let me


142 

tell you one more thing. Pushing real estate is the easy part.
It's the only fun I get out of life any more, and besides, it
gives us enough money to keep Sarah at White Oaks. So don't talk
to me about what's easy. For Christ's sake, all I'm asking ,you
to do is go and talk to somebody!"
Talk to somebody. Talk to somebody. The words echoed in his mind,
bouncing back and forth off the
inside of his skull. It sounded so easy. Just go talk to
somebody.
But about what? About what he'd done to Sarah? About why he'd
done it? He wasn't ,even sure what he'd done, and if he wasn't
sure what he'd done, how could he begin to be sure why he'd done
it? And it wasn't as if he hadn't tried. He'd spent months with
Dr. Belter. The psychiatrist had spent hours with him, hours with
Sarah, hours with the two of them together, watching them
interact, trying to discover from some clue in the way they
related to each other what had happened. He'd beaten her Jack
knew that now. But he couldn't remember starting to beat her; he
couldn't remember administering the blows. All he could remember
was being in the woods, then carrying Sarah out of the woods. And
her face. For some reason he could remember her face, the tiny,
dark, great-eyed face, peering desperately up at him, the
frightened eyes not understanding what was happening, pleading
with him to help her.
If he could remember, he could deal with it. But it was as if it
had all happened to somebody else and he had been a witness to
it. A witness who didn't want to see.
They had even tried hypnosis. But that too had failed. Dr. Belter
had warned him that some people simply cannot be hypnotized, and
he had proved to b6 one of them. Deep inside h6 harbored the
distinct feeling that he could have been hypnotized, but simply
didn't want to be; that whatever was inside him was too

 143

fearsome to bring out, that he was protecting himself from a
weakness too ugly to face. And it had formed a vicious circle,
the guilt feeding on the doubt, the doubt growing as the guilt
increased. Finally, when he could no longer face those awful
silent hours with the doctor, sipping coffee and wishing
desperately that he could bring himself to talk, if not about the
incident with Sarah then at least about the impotence that had
resulted, he had given up. He had come to terms with himself, and
they were not easy terms. He would live with the guilt, and he
would live with the impotence, and he would live with the
questions about what had really happened. But he would not have
to know. And he had come to believe that to know what had
happened would be the worst thing of all.
He stared silently across the table at Rose, wondering if there
was any way to convey all of this to her, try'mg to think of what
he could possibly say, when he was rescued from having to say
anything at all. Mrs. Goodrich's voice was pouring forth from the
kitchen. "Miss Sarah, you stop that, do you hear me?"
There was a crash, the sound of pots and pans falling to the
floor, followed by the sound of Sarah's voice rising into the
wordless wail that for a year had been her only means of
communicating her pain to the world.
"Dear God," Rose breathed, letting her head sink into her hands.
"How much more?" Then she pulled herself together and started
toward the kitchen, wondering what it would be this time. She
didn't see Elizabeth enter the dining room from the other door.
Elizabeth paused as her mother left the room and waited a moment,
listening to the chaos from the kitchen. As it subsided, she
relaxed and moved to the table. Still in his chair, Jack stared
vacantly at the door leailing through the butler's pantry to the
kitchen, his face pale. Elizabeth reached out a hand to touch
him.


144 

"It's all fight, Daddy," she said softly. "It,s over now."
At the touch, Jack started. His mind registered the fact that he
hadn't been aware of Elizabeth's presence, and he felt the fear
sweep over him again. He tried to cover it with a smile.
"Hello, Princess," he said, fighting to control the shakiness in
his voice. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I wonder what she was doing," Elizabeth said, standing close to
her father. "I hope she didn't hurt herself."
'Tm sure she didn't," Jack said, though he was far from sure.
"Have a seat, and I'll pour you some juice."
Elizabeth grinned at him crookedly. "How about if I sit on your
lap?" she said.
"My lap? Aren't you getting a little big for that?"
"Sometimes I like to feel small again," Elizabeth plied. "Do you
ever feel like that?"
"Everyone feels like that," Jack said, opening his arms. "Climb
on up and be small for a while."
The girl sat on his knee, and Jack put an affectionate arm around
her waist. And then the door opened once more, and Rose stood
staring stonily at him.
"I beg your pardon," she said, her voice icy and her eyes
accusing him. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."
"You're not " Elizabeth started to say, but she wasn't allowed to
finish.
"Take your chair, Elizabeth," her mother snapped. Obediently
Elizabeth left her father's lap and sat down in her chair. She
reached for the orange juice and poured herself a glass.
Jack started to rebuke his wife, then changed his mind. "Is
everything all right out there?" he said instead.
"Mrs. Goodrich has it under control, and Sarah seems to have
settled down, but the kitchen's a mess.

 145

Mrs. Goodrich thinks she was trying to get at the knife case for
some reason."
"The knife case?" Jack repeated. Elizabeth began buttering a
piece of danish.
"Well, of course, she's not sure," Rose continued. "I can't
imagine what she'd want to do with a knife."
"No," Jack said briefly, "I can't either." Then he searched his
mind for another subject, something that would take all their
minds off what had just happened.
Suddenly he brightened and turned to Elizabeth. "Did you ever
find Cecil?" he said.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't know what happened to him. He
must've run off somewhere. He'll be back. Cats are like that, I
guess. I'd rather have a dog, anyway. They pay more attention to
you."
"I asked Mrs. Goodrich to look for h'nn the other day," Rose
said, her foot moving to the button on the floor that would
summon the housekeeper. "But I forgot all about it till this
minute." Rose, too, was glad for the distraction from the
unpleasantness that had clouded an otherwise beautiful morning.
Outside the sun was shining brightly. The door to the butler's
pantry opened, and Mxs. Goodrich's stocky frame appeared.
"Yes?"
'Tm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Goodrich, I know it hasn't been the
best morning. But I was just wondering, did you ever find Cecil
the other day?"
"I got better things to do than search for an independent cat,"
the housekeeper said shortly. Then she relented. "No, I didn't.
And I searched this place from top to bottom." She seemed to
think a moment, then spoke again. "Which reminds me. Somebody
around here not satisfied with my work?"
"Not satisfied?" Rose said blankly. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Mrs. Goodrich said, shifting her weight from


146 

one leg to the other, "someone's been up in the attic, cleaning.
If you'd wanted the attic cleaned, you might have told me. I'm
getting along, but I can still keep this house."
Rose glanced at her husband and her daughter; they both shrugged
their innocence. "I'm sure I don't know who cleaned it," Rose
said, trying her best to suggest that it probably hadn't been
cleaned at all. "And you didn't see any traces of Cecil?"
"Cats don't leave traces," Mrs. Goodrich said bluntly. She
turned, then stepped aside. "'Souse me," she said, and edged
around the small form of Sarah, who had been standing, hidden
behind the housekeeper's bulky form, through the whole
conversation about the cat. Her eyes wero filled with tears, and
she was shaking.
Elizabeth moved quickly to her sister and put her arms around
her, stilling Sarah's sobs with her embrace.
"It's all right, Sarah," she said softly. "If Cec'd doesn't show
up, we can get another cat. Or maybe even a dog," she added
wistfully. Sarah's trembling increased, and she seemed about to
scream. Then she relaxed under Elizabeth's loving smile.
Rose watched Elizabeth dry Sarah's eyes and lead her to the
table, and wished once more that she had the compassion for Sarah
that her older daughter dearly had. She banished the twinge of
guilt she felt pass through her and poured more coffee, first for
herself, then for Jack. It was in the way of calling a truce, at
least for a while.

12

Port Arbello basked in the unusual warmth of the fall afternoon,
and the sun warmed not only the air but also the atmosphere
within the house at the end of the Point. By noon, a feeling of
peace had overtaken the house, a peace all the Congets felt. The
strain of the morning dissipated, and the undeclared truce
between Jack and Rose seemed to be blossoming into an armistice.
Within themselves, they wondered how long it would last, but each
of them was determined to enjoy it while it was there.
"I love Indian summer," Rose commented over lunch. "Let's do
something this afternoon."
"Can't," Jack said apologetically. "I already promised Ray Norton
a round of golf."
Rose felt a caustic phrase concerning neglect of family rise to
her throat. She fought it down before it had the chance to ruin
their lunch.
"I've got some work to do anyway," she said, and there was
nothing in her voice to suggest disappointment, hostility, or
anything else that might destroy the good mood she could feel in
the room. Jack, who had been expecting some sort of dart, looked
up in surprise.
"I could cancel it," he offered, and Rose knew it was a genuine
offer.
"No, you go ahead," she said, the intention being sufficient for
the fact. They finished lunch in the comfortable silence that
often occurs between people who love each other, but which had
been absent from their


148 

lives for so long. They greeted it with appreciation, and did
nothing to disturb it.
Jack left for his golf game, and the children disappeared
upstairs. Rose wandered to her office in the small room at the
front of the house and shuffled some papers around. She found she
couldn't concentrate. She left the office and rambled down the
hall to the study at the rear. She entered the study, and
something caught her eye. It was so fast, she wasn't sure it had
happened -one of those instants when one is sure one saw
something, but has no idea what. She glanced around the room, but
nothing was amiss. She closed the door behind her and sat down.
It was a pleasant room, and the sun streamed through the window.
It flashed off an ancient brass spittoon that had been converted
to a standing ashtray, and it occurred to Rose that that must
have been what caught her eye as she entered. Then she glanced up
at the old portrait above the mantel.
It had to be an ancestor, she knew. The resemblance to Elizabeth
was too remarkable for the girl in the picture not to be a
Conger. But which one?
They had found the picture up in the attic more than a year ago.
But then the trouble with Sarah as Rose liked to phrase it had
started, and it had not been until a month ago that she had
remembered the portrait and brought it downstairs. It was odd,
she reflected, not for the first time, how the painting had been
tucked away in a comer. The Congets, who had apparently been much
given to ancestor worship, had a large rack in the attic upon
which those ancestors not currently on display in the lower
portion of the house could be neatly stored. At the moment, the
group in storage included nearly everybody; only Jack's mother
still enjoyed the light of day over the fireplace in the living
room. Even with all the ancestors in residence, there had still
been plenty of room in the rack for the

 149

picture of the young girl. But she hadn't been there. Instead,
she had been hidden away in a corner.
The other odd thing was that the girl was not identitled. The
frames of all the other portraits bore neat brass plates giving
the name, date of birth, and date of death of their subjects.
Except this one. This one had once borne such a plate, as
evidenced by the two tiny nail holes in the bottom rail of the
frame, but it had been removed.
Rose stared at the portrait and wondered what had banished the
little girl from the family gallery. Her imagination ran wild,
and she entertained herself for some time creating scenarios to
account for the girl's fall from grace.
And then it hit her. It had not been the sunlight on the spittoon
that had caught her eye. It had been something in the portrait.
She studied it carefully, try'rag to force her mind to make the
connection again, to tell her what it was that she had
recognized. Then it came to her.
It was the bracelet. The bracelet on the girl's wrist. She had
seen it before, very recently. But where? It was a gold bracelet,
and it seemed to be set with some sort of stone. It looked like
opal, but in the old oil she couldn't be sure. It could have been
something else.
She concentrated on remember'rag where she had seen the bracelet,
why it was suddenly familiar. She drew a blank, and the longer
she stared at the picture, the surer she became that it was not a
real memory, but a simple dcl vu. The illusion of memory. She
reached up to adjust the picture, which seemed to be tilted just
slightly off center, and decided that she wasn't going to spend
any more time worrying about a bracelet in a picture. She really
did have work to do.
She returned to her study, determined to avoid looking out the
window until she was well into the rhythm of her work. The day
was just too pretty, and she knew


150 

that if she looked out too soon she would find an excuse to close
her files and go out into the sun. But the sun could wait. She
burrowed into the stack of papers on the desk.
She didn't really hear the door open an hour later, but was aware
that she was no longer alone. She looked around and discovered
that Sarah 'was with her, standing just inside the door, her huge
brown eyes fixed on her mother. Rose put down her pen.
"Sarah," she said, and held out her arms. Slowly, almost warily,
Sarah approached her. The little girl stopped when she was just
beyond Rose's reach.
"She wants you to play with her," Elizabeth said from the door.
Rose glanced up.
"I didn't see you," she said. 'Come in."
"Not now," Elizabeth said. "I'm going outside for
a while. Sarah wants you to play with her." "What does she want.
me to play?"
"Whatever," Elizabeth said. "I'1! e you later." She disappeared,
and a moment later Rose heard the front door open and close. She
turned her attention back to Sarah.
"What would you like to play?" she asked the silent. child.
Sarah merely stood there; then, after a few seconds, she backed a
few paces away from Rose and sat heavily on the floor. Rose
frowned slightly, then left her chair and joined her daughter on
the floor.
"Pease porridge hot," Rose tried, clapping her hands first on her
thighs, then together, then silently outward. There was no
response from Sarah, who simply sat on the floor, her face in
repose, staring steadily at her mother. Rose decided to try it
again, this':tim8 guiding her daughter's hands through
the.touline.
"Pease porridge cold," she said. "Now let's try it together ."
She went through the rout'me again, and on the first

 151

"Pease" Sarah's hands clapped against her thighs. But as Rose
resumed the chant, the child's hands continued to slap her
thighs, never progressing to the other variations. Rose found
herself playing with empty air. Determinedly, she continued the
game. Sarah's hands clapped a steady rhythm against her thighs.
Finally, when Rose stopped the game, Sarah's hands continued to
move, clapping hollowly into the silence.
Rose watched the mindless clapping for a minute or two, then
could stand it no more. She picked the child up and sat in a
large chair, Sarah in her lap. The girl did not resist, but Rose
had the distinct feeling that if she did not continue to support
her daughter, the child would slip to the floor. She picked up a
magazine from a table next to the chair, and began to leaf
through it. Every now and then Sarah's hand would reach out to
stop the pages from turning. The third time it hal> pened, Rose
realized that Sarah was stopping the pages wherever there was a
picture of a cat.
"I know, darling," she whispered. "If Cecil doesn't come back in
another day or two, we'll get you another cat."
And suddenly Sarah was gone. Before Rose could do anything, the
girl had wriggled from her lap and dashed out of the room. Rose
could hear her retreating footsteps pounding up the stairs, and
started to follow. Then she stopped, realizing that there was
litfie she could do, since she had no way of finding out from
Sarah what had gone wrong. She sWod in her office door for a
minute, listening carefully, but heard no sounds from above. It
wasn't until she was sure of the silence that she allowed herself
to realize that she had not been expecting silence. She had been
expecting pandemonium, an encore of this morning's tantrum. When
it failed to materialize, she felt relief. She left the office
door open and returned to her desk.
She had no idea how much later it was when she


15 2 

once more got the feeling that she .was not alone. She glanced
over her shoulder, and there, standing once more just inside the
door, was Sarah. She seemed to start slightly when Rose glanced
at her, and Rose turned quickly back to her work. But she was
careful to listen for her daughter's slightest movement.
Sarah came into the room and began moving around, touching
objects, picking things up to examine them, then putting them
back where she had found them. Rose heard the small feet
shuffling around the room, heard the t'my clicks as Sarah
replaced the things she picked up. Then there was a silence, but
Rose
strained herself from looking around to see what the girl was up
to. Then she felt something touch her leg, and realized that
Sarah had crept under the desk. Rose smiled to herself as she
remembered how much fun she had had as a child pretending a desk
was a cave. If her daughter was anything like she had been, she
would be happy there the rest of the afternoon. Rose turned all
her attention back to her work.
As the afternoon wore on, Rose was occasionally aware of movement
under the desk, but it wasn't until she felt something being
fastened around her ankle that she finally put her work aside.
She sat very still, wondering what it was that Sarah was
attaching to her. She waited, expecting something to touch her
other leg, and she wasn't disappointed.
The girl was tying her feet together. Rose began planning the
show she would put on for her daughter when Sarah had finished.
She had tried the same trick as a child, tying her father's
shoestrings together as he sat at his desk, and had been
gratified when he stood up, stumbled violently, then crashed
around the room for almost a full minute before collapsing to the
floor in a hopeless tangle. At the time it had never occurred to
her that her father had not actually been out of control of the
situation, and, indeed, it wasn't until this very minute that she
realized that he had put on the

 153
same carnival for her that she was about to stage for Sarah. Then
she felt Sarah finish.
"Well," she said loudly. "That's that, I guess I'll stretch my
legs." She could picture the child grinning and quivering with
suppressed laughter beneath her,
Rose pushed away from the desk and moved her feet carefully to
test the length of the string she was sure was hobbling her
ankles. It seemed to very long indeed, and she wondered how she
was going to be able to fake the thing convincingly.
It wasn't until she was fully away from the desk that she
realized that there was no string at all, that it was something
entirely different that was around her ankles.
She reached down and felt something hard. When she looked, she
felt her heart skip a beat, and had that feeling in her stomach
that she often got when an elevator dropped away beneath her
feet. It was the bracelet.
She pulled it from her ankle, forgetting about Sarah for the time
being, and examined it carefully, Yes, it was the bracelet from
the picture: gold set with a small opal. Tiny flects of dirt
clung to it, as if it had been lying outdoors for a long time,
She stood up, intending to take it into the rear study for a
careful comparison, and felt something else, something flopping
against her other ankle.
She looked down Once more, and didn't immediately recognize the
other object. It was a pale, whitish color, but badly stained,
and seemed to have a buckle of
some kind on it. Then she realized what it was. A collar.
A cat's plastic flea collar.
,"Where in the world " she muttered as she unfastened the collar
from her ankle. She straightened up and examined the collar. It
was dirty too, but it was not the same kind of dirt that was on
the bracelet. The collar bore specks of a reddish-brown
substance.

'F' l'llF'I 'll/111111 'll I ' r ' 'rrn


154 

It took a while for Rose to realize that the substance looked
like dried blood. When she did realize what it was, she stepped
to the office door.
"Mrs. Goodrich," she called. "Come here, please. Quickly."
When she turned back to the study she realized that Sarah was
still under the desk, tightly crouched, 'her small face peering
out of the darkness like a rabbit trapped in a hole. Rose stared
back at the ch'fid, not having any idea what to say. When Mrs.
Goodrich appeared at the door, Rose hadn't moved.
"I sure hope my pies don't get mined," the old woman said, wiping
her hands on her apron. Then, when Rose didn't turn around to
face her, she stopped wiping her hands and spoke again.
"Is something wrong, Miz Rose7" she asked.
"I I don't know," Rose said unsteadily. "Look at

She held out the flea collar, and Mrs. Goodrich reached to take
it from her.
"Looks like a flea collar," the housekeeper said. "Same kind we
put on Gee'ft." Her eyes caught sight of the stain. "Here, what's
this?"
'Tin not sure," Rose said, hoping Mrs. Goodrich would offer an
alternative.
"Why, it's blood," the woman said. "Well, ff that don't beat all.
Where'd this come from?"
"Sarah," Rose said vaguely. "Sarah put it on my ankle."
"Well, that's a peculiar thing to do," the old woman said. "Where
.do you suppose she got it from?"
"I'm not sure," Rose said. "I don't have any idea at all,
really."
"Well, if she got it off that cat, I wish she'd tell us where the
cat is." She sniffed the air. "I smell my pies." She busfled
away, and Rose listened to her footsteps fade down the hall.
"Sarah?" Rose said. The child crept a little way out

  153'
from under the desk. "Sarah, darling, it's all right,"
Rose said, not knowing ff it was all ,right or not. "COme
out from under there."
She reached down and gently pulled her daughter '
the rest of the way out, then picked her Up'andarried' '_
her upstairs. She set Sarah on the bed and cox/ered her
with a comforter. "Take a little nap," she said, and
bent down to kiss her gently on the forehead: "She ,was
behaving with a calm that she did not feel, ..
She heard Jack's car coming up the drive 'as she
went back down'the stairs, and waited for him at the
front door. ...i
"Hi," he said, but the smile faded friSm 'his face
when he saw how pale she was. "What's wrong?-
asked. "Has something happened?"he
"I don't know," Rose said quietly. "Let's go ino the
study. I'll be with you in a minute."
She stepped into her office and picked rip'the' brace-
let and the collar. Then she followed Jack down the
hall.
 "Why don't you pour us bSthSa k," she haii, . ':
 closing the door behind her. Jack-looked at her curi'
 ously.
 "You sound upset," he said. "What's .been going on "
around here?"- '
She told what had happe.ed showed
the two objects. Hc examined the collar briefly, then
turned his attention to the bracelet.
"This looks familiar," he said slowly. "I'd swear I've
seen it before, but I can't remember where."
"The picture," Rose said.
"Picture?" Then hc looked to where she was point-
ing, and his eyes found the bracelet on the litfie girl's
wrist. "Good Lord," hc breathed. "Arc you. sure it's
the same one?"
"I haven't compared them yet, but yes, I'm sure,"
Rose said. "And the strangest thing is that earlier,
before Sarah put it on my ankle, I was looking at the

""' IIIII I I 11111 /r: - , - . ......


156 3oas SAUL
bracelet in the picture. I was almost sure I'd seen it
somewhere before, other than in the picture," "Has Sarah been
wearing it?" Jack asked.
"I don't know. If she has, I hadn't noticed it consciously. But I
suppose she must have been."
Jack moved to the picture and held the bracelet up next to its
representation in the portrait. It was the same bracelet.,,r"
Rose said,
"It's the collar that worries me v.,
 taking a long swallow from her drink. "The collar?"
"Well, where do you suppose she got that? And how do you suppose
the blood got on it?"
"You mean Cecil?" There was clear disbelief in his voice.
"What else could it be?"
"Oh, now, come on, Rose. Sarah loves that cat." "I know," Rose
said miserably. "But put it all together. The cat's gone, Sarah
was apparently trying to get at the knives just this morning,
then she got upset at pictures of cats this afternoon. And now
that." She pointed to the bloody collar.
"You think she's killed Cecil."
The words hit Rose, and she recoiled almost visibly. She realized
that that was exactly what she thought; she had merely refused to
put words to it. She nodded dumbly.
"I don't believe it," Jack said. "I just don't believe it."
"Then where did she get that collar? And the bracelet, too, for
that matter."·
"I don't know," lack said. "But I don't believe she killed Cecil.
She wouldn't do a thing like that."
"How do we know she wouldn't, Jack? How do we know what she would
do or wouldn't do?" She was on the verge of tears, and Jack
reached out to comfort her, but she turned away,
"What do you think we ought to do?" Jack said.

 157

"Call the school, I suppose," Rose said. "Talk to Dr. Belter. He
wanted to know if anything unusual happened. And God knows this
is unusual."
"What are we going to tell him?" Jack said uneasily. "That Sarah
found a couple of things and we think she killed the cat?"
"I don't know," Rose replied. "I'll just tell him exactly what
happened and see what he thinks about

"When are you going to call him?" A note of belligerence had
crept into his voice.
"Right now," Rose replied, moving to the phone. She dialed the
telephone, and was connected to the doctor a couple of minutes
later. He listened to her
story, and when she finished he asked some questions. "How is she
now?" he wanted to know.
"Sarah? I guess she's all right. She doesn't seem to be upset, if
that's what you mean. She's upstairs, sleeping."
Dr. Belter considered, then spoke again.
"Why don't you both come to the school on Monday? You and your
husband? Then we can talk about it. Can it walt until then?"
"Well, I suppose so," Rose said, but she wasn't sure it could.
Dr. Belter heard the uneasiness in her voice.
"I'll tell you what. If anything else happens, you call me, and
I'll be right out there. Otherwise, I'll see you on Monday."
"All right," Rose agreed. "I suppose that'it be fine. Thank you,
Doctor." She hung up the phone, and was about to tell Jack what
had been arranged when she saw his eyes move from her own to a
spot behind her and the blood drain from his face. S. he whirled
around, not knowing what to expect.
It was Elizabeth, and she was a mess. The dress that had been so
clean when she left the house was now filthy, covered with mud,
and the muck was streaked over her face as well.


160 
the Congers were due. He braced himself to tolerate further
pontificating from the social worker.
"What I'm trying to say," Miss Wells said, tapping her front
teeth with the end of the Pentel she always carried, apparently
for no other purpose, since she rarely took notes, "is that what
we seam to have here is a clear case of regression." Miss Wells,
who felt that her Master of Social Welfare degree qualified her
as a psychologist, a sociologist, and a sage, leaned back and
looked pleased with herseft.
"And?" Dr. Belter prompted.
"And therefore it strikes me that we should be trying to find out
toward what she is regressing."
Dr. Belter shot a glance to Mrs. Montgomery, but the teacher's
face was a bland mask of innocence. Marie Montgomery had
discovered long ago that with osie Wells it was best to sit
quietly and listen. Any response was all too likely to carry Miss
Wells further into the mazes of gobbledygook that she mistook for
erudition. Marie caught Dr. Belter's glance, and wondered how he
was planning to deal with the social worker's impossible idea.
"I think you're absolutely right," Dr. Belter said gravely. "I
suggest that you have copies made of the entire file immediately,
and begin comparing common factors between the prenatal
experience of Sarah and the postpartum depression futeriundus of
her mother." The doctor was pleased to see Josie Wells's Pentel
scribble a word. He wondered how many books she would search
before she finally decided there was no such word as
"futeriundus." Then it struck him that it was more likely she
would simply attach a meaning to the word, and proceed to carry
out his instructionS. He sighed to himself and cursed the
necessity of having a social worker in his midst. When he saw the
Congers driving up to the building, his sigh became audible. He
braced himself and put on a broa6 smile as they were

 161

ushered into his office, so that neither of them was aware that
he was, while greeting them, examining them minutely.
He noted the obvious strain in Rose's face, the strain that had
been growing there for a year. It didn't seem any worse than the
last time he had seen her, but there were other signs now, signs
that her composure was wearing thin. Her hair, usually perfectly
set, was beginning to show the first signs of disarray. Not that
it was messy not by any means; it simply wasn't as perfect as
usual. And there was a tiny spot on the jacket of her pants suit,
a spot that most people would never notice but nevertheless a
spot that Dr. Belter knew Rose Conger would not normally
tolerate.
Jack, on the other hand, seemed totally unchanged. It should be
showing, Dr. Belter thought. Unless he's some sort of monster.
But Charles Belter did not believe people were monsters, so he
looked more closely. He found what he was looking for in Jack's
tingemaRs: He was beginning to chew on them. Not enough so they
looked chewed, but just slightly uneven, as if he would chew one,
then smooth it out with a file, leaving it shorter than the
others.
"Sit down," Dr. Belter said warmly. "We've just been discussing
Sarah. Since you didn't call again, I gather yesterday was
quiet?"
"Well," Rose said, "I'm not sure what quiet is any more. If you
mean nothing happened, nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose you
could say nothing happened. But I'm afraid I have to say that I
think she's getting worse."
"Rose!" Jack said. "I don't think that's fair."
"No," Rose said tiredly. "I know you don't think it's fair. And
it may not be. I will grant you that I'm not a psychologist, and
I will grant you that I have no training in the sort of disorders
Sarah has. But I'm a mother, and I know how I feel. And I feel
worn out, and I feel


162 
sick, and I feel my daughter isn't getting any better "
"That's a lot different from getting worse," Jack interjected.
"All right,. maybe I'm wrong. You tell us," she appealed to the
doctor. Then she recounted the events of Saturday, leaving out
none of the details. Dr. Belief listened carefully, as did the
teacher and the social worker. When Rose was finished, he leaned
back in his chair, closed his eyes, and seemed to be considering
something. No one in the room spoke, and it passed through Jack's
mind that the doctor looked just like Santa Claus. Had he known
of the thought, Dr. Belter would have been pleased.
Eventually he opened his eyes again, and turned to Made
Montgomery. "Any ideas?"
She shook her head. "Not at the moment. Frankly, it
 doesn't sound to me like Sarah's getting worse." Jack's eyes lit
up. "No?" he said eagerly.
"Well," Made Montgomery said carefully, "it seems to me that the
fact that she was able to concentrate on something as long as she
did in order to get that collar onto your ankle indicates that
she may be getting a little better. Granted, it was a macabre
thing for her to do at least, it seems so to us, but it may not
have been macabre to her at all. It may have been something else
entirely." She reviewed the incident with the magazine and
Sarah's reaction to the pictures of cats. "She
 may have been trying to tell you something." "Such as?" Rose
asked.
The teacher shrugged. "That's the hard part. You have to remember
that Sarah's mind isn't working the same way as yours and mine.
There's really no way for us to know what she was trying to
communicate. But whatever it was, it must have been important.
She doesn't normally spend that much time doing anything, let
alone anything that takes the dexterity of fastening one of those
plastic collars. They're tricky."
Dr. Belter nodded his head in agreement, and seemed

 163

to come to a decision in his own mind. He spoke to his
colleagues. "I think I'd better talk to the Congets alone, if you
don't mind."
Josephine Wells started to protest, but Mrs. Montgomery was
already on her feet. "Of course," she said, over the social
worker's voice. "If you need us, page us." Before Josie could say
anything, Marie Montgomery was pulling her out of the office. Dr.
Belter waited until the door was closed before he spoke.
"You two are having a rough time of it, aren't you?" he said at
last. Rose and Jack stared at him, each waiting for the other to
speak. The silence lengthened, until Rose broke it.
"Yes," she said, barely audibly. "We are. And it isn't all
Sarah."
Dr. Belter's head bobbed. "Not d'treetly, anyway. Do you want to
tell me what's going on at your house?"
Rose waited for Jack to speak, but when he didn't she began
talking about their problems. As she talked she became aware of a
strange detachment, as though she were talking about two other
people, not herself and her husband. She recounted the fights and
the cruelties they had inflicted on each other, and was surprised
to discover that she was being fair; she was presenting Jack's
side of things as well as her own. When
she was finished, Dr. Belter turned to Jack. "You want to add
anything?"
"No," Jack said. He smiled at his wife. "I have to hand it to you
I couldn't have been that fair."
"Mrs. Conger," Dr. Belter said, "has it occurred to you that
maybe you should be in therapy too?"
"What do you mean?" Rose said defensively.
Dr. Belter smiled easily. "Well, let's face it. Generally
speaking, I consider emotional problems to be a communicable
disease. If one person in a family is having problems, others
usually are too, if for no other reason than that it is difficult
to live with someone who is mentally ill. It is quite easy for
someone with no


164 JOhr SAUL

particularly severe problems to develop some severe problems
simply because of the extra pressure involved in living with a
person as disturbed as Sarah."
"And you think I'm developing some severe problems?"
"Are you?" Dr. Belter tossed the question back to her.
Her initial impulse was to deny it, but Rose realized that she
couldn't, not ff she was honest. She remembered the moments of
panic she was having, the fight feelings in her stomach, the
sudden flashes of anger she felt, the way she had begun to
overreact. An image came to her mind of Elizabeth fleeing from
the study in tears, simply because Rose had yelled at her about
getring her clothes dirty.
"You're suggesting that I could use some therapy too?" she asked
noncommittally.
"I'm suggesting that both of you could use some therapy. You
don't seem to be handling your problems very well, either of you,
which is understandable, considering the circumstances. All I'm
suggesting is that you both could use some help."
"Maybe we should throw in Elizabeth, too, and qualify for a
family discount," Jack said. When the chuckle died away, Dr.
Belter's face took on a serious east.
"What about Elizabeth?" he said.
"She's incredible," Rose said. "Other than when I yelled at her
on Saturday for getting her dress dirty, she's been an angel.
She's patient with Sarah, takes care of herself. Sometimes I
wonder what I'd do without her."
"She must be an amazing child," Dr. Belter mused. "Generally, a
child her age, with a sibling like Sarah, would show at least
intermittent hostility toward the sick brother or sister. It's
because of the extra attention the sick one gets, of course, and
it's perfectly naturaL"

 165

"Well," Rose said, "we've had none of that sort of thing."
Jack grinned. "I guess Elizabeth is the only One of us who's
immune to the family curse." He laughed, but his laughter faded
when he noticed that the doctor had not joined him.
"Ah, yes," Dr. Belter said, leaning back once more
and closing his eyes. "The Conger family curse." "You've heard
about it?" Jack said.
"Around Port Arbello, who hasn't? As a matter of fact, I probably
know more about your family curse than you do."
"Oh?" Jack said guardedly. "How so?"
Dr. Belter smiled at him. "I make it a practice to find out
everything I can about all my patients, and their families. So
when I first met you people, I started snooping."
"And what did you find?" Rose asked.
"A certain Reverend Caspar Winecliff," Dr. Belter said, savoring
the name.
"You mean the old Methodist minister?" Jack said, his brows
arching. "We hardly know the man."
"Ah, but he knows you," the doctor intoned, enjoyhag the baffled
looks on the Congers' faces. Then he dropped the air of mystery.
"Actually, Caspar Winecliff simply has a passion for local legend
and folklore, particularly with reference to New England curses
and that sort of thing. My personal opinion is that he enjoys the
subject because he thinks it's wicked and ties in the face of his
good Methodist background. ff you ask me, he believes every word
of every legend he's ever heard, though 6f course he de,nies it.
And the Conger legend happens to be his favorite."
"You're lddding," Jack said. "I knew the legend wasn't any great
secret, but I didn't know anybody was that interested in it."


166 

"I didn't either, until I was down at the library one day asking
some questions. I was hoping to find some old papers or something
that would have the legend written up. They didn't, but the
Hbrarian put me onto Caspar Winecliff. How much do you know about
your legend?"
Jack recounted as much of it as he knew, and when he was finished
the doctor nodded his head.
"That's it, all fight, except for the story about the little
girl."
Jack and Rose glanced at each other, and Dr. Belter thought he
saw alarm in their eyes.
"What little girl?" Jack said apprehensively. For some reason, an
image of the portrait in the study came to his mind.
"It has to do with the relative who went off the cliff," the
doctor began, looking inquiringly at Jack.
"I know about him," Jack said. "I'm not sure what his name was."
"It was John Conger, actuatly," Dr. Belter said seriously. "The
same as yours."
Jack felt a chill in his spine. "What about him?" "Well," Dr.
Belter said, "the story is that the reason he jumped off the
cliff was that he had just molested and killed a little girl. His
daughter."
The blood drained from Jack's face, and he stared coldly at the
doctor.
"Just what are you trying to say?"
The doctor smiled reassuringly. "I'm not. trying to say anything.
I'm just telling you the story. And, of course, it could be
entirely apocryphal. Caspar Winecliff tells me they never found a
body, and, for that matter, there don't seem to be any records of
John Conger's ever having had a daughter."
Rose saw the portrait in her mind's eye, with the nameplate
removed from the bottom of the frame.
"Did Reverend Winecliff have any idea of how 01d

 167

the girl was, or what she looked like?" She was almost afraid to
hear the answer.
Dr. Belter shook his head. "Nothing about what she looked like,
but she was supposed to have been about ten or eleven years old."
"About the same age as Sarah?" Jack said, a distinct edge in his
voice.
"Yes," Dr. Belter said, meeting his troubled gaze, "about the
same age s Sarah."
"Dr. Belter," Rose said, "just what are you getting at? It sounds
as though you believe in the whole silly legend."
Dr. Belter thought carefully before he answered, and when he
spoke he chose his words precisely.
"Whether or not I believe in the legend isn't what's at issue
here. What's at issue is whether or not your husband believes in
it. Do you, Mr. Conger?"
Jack started to speak, but the doctor stopped him. "Don't answer
quickly, please. Think about it. And try to think about it oR two
levels. I'm sure your conscious mind doesn't believe that there
could be any kind of curse on your family. In this day and age we
tend to think of such thillgs as silly. But there is also your
subconscious mind. Often we find that the things our conscious
minds refuse to take seriously our subconscious minds deal with
in a very serious manner. Essentially, that is what dreams are
all about, and, sometimes, neuroses and psychoses. One might say
that mental illness results when our conscious minds and our
unconscious minds try to do each other's jobs. So think about it
before you answer my question."
Jack did, and found that he was amazed by the answer he came up
with. He smiled sheepishiy at the doctor.
"Okay," he said. "I guess I have to admit that I do believe in
the legend, including the curse. I suppose with us Congers it's
like religion. We were brought up


168 

with it, and while we know it's nonsense, it's still lurking
there, just below the surface."
Dr. Belter nodded. "But you say you never heard of the little
girl before?"
Jack shook his head. "No. I'm sure. I'd have remembered. Why?"
"Isn't it obvious? If the story of the little girl is true, there
are some pretty strong parallels between what happened to her and
her father, and what happened to you and Sarah. Except that with
you and Sarah no molestation took place, and nobody died. But
otherwise, it's the same thing."
"History repeating itself?" It was Rose's voice, and the two men
turned to her. "I don't believe it."
'That's not exactly what I meant," Dr. Belter said. "Although the
effect would be the same. Do either of yOU know anything about
voodoo?"
'That it's a lot of hoedoe," Jack said, too quickly. "Not quite,"
Dr. Bclter replied. "It's based on the power of suggestion.
Essentially, what it bo'fis down to is this: If someone believes
strongly enough that some thing'will happen, it will, in all
likelihood, happen. For instance, voodoo tradition has it that
you can cause pain in a person by sticking pins in an effigy of
that person. The catch is that the person has to know that pins
arc being stuck in the doll. Once he knows the pins are being
placed, his own mind will create the pain. Do you see?"
Jack mulled it over. "In other words, you think I might be a
victim of the legend, simply because I believe in it?"
"That's it," Dr. Belter said. "Simplified, but that's essentially
it."
Rose smiled wryly. "Except that we didn't know anything about the
relevant part of the legend. The lit fie girl. You said yourself
that there's no evidence she exists."

 169

"But she does, Rose," Jack said quietly. "Don't you
 want to tell Dr. Belter what she looked like?" Dr. Belter turned
questioningly to Jack.
"We found a picture in the attic," Jack explained, and went on to
tell the doctor about the portrait.
"But how can you be sure it's the same litfie girl? How can you
even be sure it's a Conger child?"
"Because," Jack said, his voice a whisper now, "the girl in the
picture looks exactly like Elizabeth."
"I see," Dr. Belter said after a long silence. "Mr. Conger, are
you sure you never saw that picture before, or heard anything
about it?"
"Not until a year ago," Jack said definitely. "Not that I can
remember."
"Not that you can remember," the doctor repeated thoughtfully.
"But we don't always remember everything we want to remember, do
we? I think maybe it would be a good idea to try to find out
exactly what you do remember."
Jack appeared to be about to object, but at the look on Rose's
face, a look that told him he'd better agree, he sagged in
defeat.
"Very well," he said. "When shall we begin?"
Dr. Belter examined his calendar. "How about two weeks from
tomorrow, at one P.M.? Both of you."
Before Jack could protest Rose said, "We'll be there."
The session with Dr. Belter ended.
Neither of the Congers felt better about anything. They were more
frightened than ever.


14

Fifteen miles-from White Oaks School, wh'fie lack and Rose Conger
sat chatting with Dr. Charles Belter, th0 final bell rang through
the halls of Port ArbeHo Memorial School, and the children poured
out of the classrooms. Elizabeth Conger picked Kathy Burton's
face out of the crowd and hurried toward her.
An eager smile lit Kathy's face. "Is today the day?" she asked.
"Bat day?" Elizabeth's face was blank.
"Is this the day you're going to take me to the secret place?"
Elizabeth looked at her oddly, and Kathy's eyes widened as she
felt a thrill of excitement run through her. Then she sagged with
disappointment.
"I can't," Kathy said. 'Tin supposed to go right out to the
Nortons' to baby-sit."
"That's all right," Elizabeth said, her eyes suddenly seeming to
bore into Kathy's. "The secret place is only a little farther out
than their house, and it won't take very long."
"I don't know," Kathy said doubtfully, "I told Mrs. Norton I'd be
there right after school."
The two girls left the school building and began . walking toward
the Conger's Point Road. As they left
the town behind, Elizabeth began talking quietly about the secret
place and the wonderful times she had there. As she talked, Kathy
Burton began to wish she hadn't

II IIIII 'll II II IllllII 1' 1I T I


172 

promised Mrs. Norton her baby-sitting services for the afternoon.
"Why don't we go tomorrow?" she asked. Elizabeth shook her head.
"No. It has to be today." "Well, I don't see why it can't wait,"
Kathy sulked.
"It just can't, that's all," Elizabeth stated. "But if you don't
want to go..." She let her voice tra'd off.
"But I do want to go," Kathy insisted. "It's just that I promised
Mrs. Norton." She waited for a response from her friend, but when
none came she looked at her watch.
"Maybe ff we hurry," she said. "I could be a little late."
Elizabeth smiled at her and quickened her pace. "It'll be all
right," she said. "You'll see. You'll love the secret place."
As they passed the Nortons' driveway, Kathy felt a twinge of
gu'fit and wondered if Mrs. Norton was watching for her. When she
didn't see anybody, or hear anyone calling her, she relaxed. When
they were out of
sight of the Nortons' house, she spoke. "How much farther is it?"
"Not far. Just past the old Barnes place. Have you seen the
people who bought it?"
"He's cute," Kathy said. "What's Ms name?"
"Jeff Stevens. He's fourteen. His mother's an artist." "Does he
know about the seeret place?" Kathy asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't think I'll tell him," she
said. "We'll keep it just for us."
They passed the old Barnes house, and looked curiously at it.
They'd both' heard that it was being remodeled, but from the
outside it looked the same as ever.
"It sure is ugly," Kathy said.
"The Barneses were crazy," Elizabeth commented. "It's even
weirder on the inside."
"You've been in it?" Kathy asked.
"Not for a long time," They were coming to the

 173

woods now, and Elizabeth took Kathy by the arm. "We go through
here," she said. Kathy looked at the woods nervously.
"I don't know," she said. "I'm not supposed to go in there. They
think that's where something happened to Anne Forager."
"Nothing happened to Anne Forager," Elizabeth scoffed. "You know
what a liar she is."
Kathy mulled it over. It was true, Anne Forager was a lit fie
liar, and she did want to see the secret place, but still... She
made up her mind.
"All right," she said. "But you lead. I don't know the way out
here."
They left the road and plunged into the woods. The'it route Wok
them through the center of the woods, and every now and then they
caught a glimpse of the sea through the trees on one side or the
field on the other. There was no trail, but Elizabeth seemed to
have no trouble making her way through the underbrush. Kathy
stumbled now and then, and had to call to Elizabeth to wait. She
was determined not to fail behind. Then Elizabeth made a left
turn, and in a couple of minutes
they stood on the embankment, high above the surf. "Isn't it
beautiful?" Hzabeth whispered.
"Is this the place?" Kathy asked, looking around. Somehow it was
not what she had expected.
"No," Elizabeth answered. "It's over that way." She led Kathy
along the embankment, and at a certain spot, a spot that looked
to Kathy to be no different from any other spot, Elizabeth
started down the face of the embankment. Behind her, Kathy
stopped.
"It looks awfifily dangerous," she said. Elizabeth turned and
looked up at her, and Kathy thought she saw something in
Elizabeth's eyes, something that made her uneasy. "I'm not sure I
ought to," she said nervously. "I really should be at the
Nortons' by now."
"Are you chicken?" Elizabeth said scornfully. "Look, it's easy."
She leaped from one rock to another, and

I IIIII'1 II IlllII II111'


174 
Kathy had to admit to herself that it did look easy. Besides, she
wasn't chicken, and she wasn't going to let Elizabeth think she
was. She began picking her way down the embankment, trying to
follow the path Elizabeth had taken. It was not so easy.
Kathy told herself that she was having a harder time of it just
because she hadn't done it before. Next time, she assured
herself, she'd know the way and be able to go as fast as
Elizabeth. She glanced up and saw Elizabeth disappearing behind
an immense boulder. That must be it, she said to herself.
When she got to the boulder Elizabeth was waiting for her. Kathy
crouched down in the deep shadow that cast the crevice between
the boulder and the face of the embankment in almost total
darkness.
"Is this it?" she whispered, and wondered why she was suddenly
whispering.
"Almost," Elizabeth whispered back. "Look." She pointed to a spot
deep within the blackness, and Kathy suddenly realized that it
was not a darker shadow, but a small hole in the embankment.
"We aren't going in there, are we?" she whispered. "Sure,"
Elizabeth whispered back. "Are you scared?" "No," Kathy lied, and
wondered how much face she would lose if she turned back now.
"It's awfully dark, though, isn't it?"
"I have a light," Erzabeth said. She reached into the hole and
pulled out the flashlight from its niche behind a rock just
inside the mouth of the cave. She clicked it on and shined it
into the opening.
"It's a tunnel," Kathy whispered. "Where does it go?"
"To the secret place," Elizabeth said. "Come on." She crept into
the tunnel, and Kathy saw that there was enough room for
Elizabeth to crawl along without hitting the roof of the cavern.
Swallowing her fear, she foliowed El'mabeth.
In half a minute they were in the cavern surround-

 175

ing the shaft. Elizabeth waited for Kathy to. emerge from the
tunnel, and heard Kathy say, "This is neat."
"We're not there yet," Elizabeth said. "The secret place is down
there." She shined the light into the shaft,
and heard Kathy suck in her breath. "Where does it go?" she
breathed.
"Down to the secret place. I have a ladder, lizabeth directed the
beam of the flashlight to the rope ladder, which still hung in
the shaft, securely anchored to the rocks on the cavern floor.
'Tve never climbed one of those before," Kathy said, wondering if
her lack of experience would get her off the hook.
"It's easy," Elizabeth said. "Look. I'll go first, and when I get
to the bottom I'll hold the light for you. It isn't very far, and
you won't fall. Besides, even if you do, you won't fall far
enough to hurt yourself. I've done it lots of times, and there
wasn't anybody to hold the light for me."
"How did you find this place?" Kathy asked, wanting to delay the
moment when she knew she wouldhave to conquer her fear.
"I don't know. I guess Fve known about it for a long
time. My friend told me." "Your friend?"
"Never mind," Elizabeth said mysteriously. "Come on." Holding the
light, she began climbing down the rope ladder, and in a few
seconds she was on the floor of the pit. She shone the light up
and saw Kathy's
tightened face peering down at her. "I can't see you," Kathy
hisse&
"That's because I'm behind the light," Elizabeth hissed back.
"Come down."
Kathy pondered the situation. She was afraid of the shaft, and of
going down the ladder, but she didn't want Elizabeth to know how
frightened she was. She glanced back toward the entrance to the
tunnel, and the blackness there made up her mind for her. She
wasn't about

Ill I IIIIII   IlIB II 1'1  III 'HI '


176 

tO try to make her way through the tunnel in the total darkness
behind her. She eased herself over the lip of the shaft, and her
feet found the ladder. The descent was much easier than she had
thought it would be.
"I have some candies," Elizabeth whispered, keeping the
flashlight trained on Kathy's face. In the glare, Kathy barely
saw the flare of the match as Elizabeth struck it. Elizabeth put
the match to two candles, then snapped the flashlight off. For a
moment Kathy couldn't see anything in the gloom except the twin
points of light, and Elizabeth's face looming in the glow.
"This is spooky," she said uncertainly. "I'm not sure we should
be down here."
Her eyes began to adjust to the gloom, and she looked around the
cavern. There didn,t seem to be much to it just a large, uneven
room with some boulders strewn around. In the middie, some of the
boulders had been arranged in a circle, like a table and chain.
Then Kathy saw something behind Elizabeth.
"What's that?" she asked. Elizabeth stepped aside, and Kathy's
eyes slowly took in the skeleton that was neatly laid out along
the wall.
Her scream was cut off by a sharp slap.
"You have to be quiet down here," Elizabeth said, in a whisper
that seemed to Kathy to echo through the cavern more loudly than
her scream. She wanted to scream again, but the sting of the slap
kept her s'dent.
"We're going to have a party," Elizabeth whispered. "Just you and
me and my baby."
"Baby?" Kathy repeated hollowly. "What baby?" She wasn't sure
what Elizabeth was talking about, and her mind, dogged with
confusion, couldn't seem to get a hold on anything. Then she knew
that Elizabeth must be referring to a doll.
"Sit down," Elizabeth ordered her. "I'll bring the baby."
Slowly, Kathy sank onto one of the rocks that served

 177

as a stool and watched in fascination as Elizabeth produced a
sack and placed it on the tablelike boulder.
"It's broken," Kathy said as Elizabeth pulled a bundie of doll's
clothes from the bag. "There's no head."
"Yes there is," Elizabeth muttered. "Here." She pulled the bonnet
out of the bag and set it on the table. It rolled over, and the
cavern echoed with another scream as Kathy saw the distorted
features of the cat's face, the eyes open but sunken in now, the
stump of flesh at the severed neck beginning to putrefy.
Kathy fought to control herself. She thought she was going to
throw up.
"I don't want to stay here," she said, her voice quav.ering with
the bennings of hysteria. "Let's go home."
"But we have to have a party," Elizabeth said, her voice carrying
a silky sweetness that somehow frightened Kathy even more.
"That's why we came here." She began propping the body of the cat
up on one of the rocks, and Kathy watched in horror as Elizabeth
tried to balance the head on the decapitated torso.
"Stop that!" she cried. "Don't do that!" She felt the sting of
another slap, and this time she struck back. Her hand flashed
out, but before it could make contact with ELizabeth, the other
girl had leaped on her.
Kathy felt Elizabeth's weight coming down on her and tried to
brace herself, but there was nothing to brace herseft against.
She rolled off the rock to the floor of the cavern, and felt
Elizabeth's fingernails digging into her face. She screamed
again.
"Don't do that down here," Elizabeth said, tbe silkiness gone
from her voice and her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.
"Down here you have to be quiet. My friend doesn't like noise."
Beneath her, Kathy whimpered, and tried to regain control of
herself. She had to, she knew, or the beating would continue. She
forced her body to go limp.
"Let me up," she whispered desperately. "Please,


178 

Elizabeth, let me up." The beating ceased then, and Kathy felt
the pressure ease as Elizabeth let go of her. She lay qttietly,
her eyes closed tightly, waiting for whatever would come.
"Sit there," she heard Elizabeth hiss. "Sit over there, and I'll
pour us some tea."
Kathy opened her eyes slowly, and looked around. Elizabeth was
sitting on the rock nearest the end of the dangling rope ladder,
and Kathy felt her hopes fading. She had thought she might be
able to climb out of the shaft before Elizabeth could stop her.
Now, she could see, that would never happen. She got shakily to
her feet, and sat carefully on the rock opposite Elizabeth.
Between them, the macabre corpse of the cat sat propped on a
third rock, its lips stretched back in a deathly grin. Kathy
tried not to look at it.
"Now," Elizabeth said. "Isa:t this nice?" Kathy nodded dumbly.
"Answer me," Elizabeth snapped.
"Yes," Kathy whispered, afraid to raise her voice.
"What?" Elizabeth demanded, and Kathy was afraid
for a moment that Elizabeth was go'rag to hit her again. "Yes,"
she said, 1ouder this time.
"Yes what?" Elizabeth said relentlessly.
"Yes," Kathy said, wrenching every word out, "this is very nice."
Elizabeth seemed to relax, and smiled at her.
"Tea?" Elizabeth asked. Kathy stared at her.
"Answer met" Elizabeth demanded. "Do you want some tea?"
"Y-yes," Kathy stammered. "Some tea..." Elizabeth began to mime
pouting tea and passing a cup to Kathy. Kathy hesitated for a
split second, but quickly pretended to accept the invisible cup
Elizabeth was holding out to her. There was an odd, wild look in
Elizabeth's eyes, and Kathy felt panic beginning to grow in her.
She wanted to bolt for the ladder, but

 179

knew there was no way she could get to it before Elizabeth got to
her.
"I think we should go now," Kathy said slowly. "I really think we
should. Mrs. Norton will be looking for me."
"Fuck Mrs. Norton," Elizabeth said quietly. Kathy's eyes widened
at the word, and her fear grew.
"Please, Elizabeth," she said fearfully. "Can't we go now?
I.don't like it here."
"You don't like it?" Elizabeth said, glancing around at the dimly
lit cavern. The flames flickered, and shadows danced evilly on
the wails. "It's my secret place," Elizabeth went on. "And now
it's yours, too. Only we know about this place."
Until I get home, Kathy thought. She fought to stay calm, and
watched Elizabeth carefully.
Flizabeth was engrossed in the tea party, and was busy pouting
for the wreckage that had been her pet, and pretending to pass
cakes around. Her eyes fell once more on Kathy.
"Talk to me," she said.
"Talk to you?" Kathy repeated. "About what?" "They don't talk to
me, you know. None of them do. They only talk to Sarah, and she
can't answer. So I come here, and my friends talk to me." She was
staring into Kathy's eyes again, and there was a cold light in
her own eyes. "All my friends talk to me here," she said again.
Kathy licked her lips.
"I I like your secret place," Kathy said carefully, hoping she
was choosing the fight words. "I'm glad you brought me here. But,
please, I'm going to be awfly late for my job. If I get in
trouble, I won't be able to come here with you again."
"You will," Elizabeth said with a smile, but the smile only made
Kathy more uncomfortable. "You'll learn to love this place.
You'll learn to love it as much as I do."
"Y-yes," Kathy said. "I suppose I will. But I have to go now. I
really do," she pleaded.


130 

Elizabeth seemed to consider it, then nodded.
"All fight," she said at last. "Help me clear off table."
She stood up and began to go through the motions of stacking up
all the imaginary dishes. Kathy watched her in silence, but when
Elizabeth glared at her she stood up and tried to convince
Elizabeth that she was helping. She also tried to move near the
shaft, but Elizabeth managed to keep herself between Kathy and
the ladder.
"Blow out. the Hghts," Elizabeth commanded. She stood at the
bottom of the ladder, the flashlight in her hand.
"Turn on the flashlight," Kathy countered. Elizabeth snapped it
on.
"Will you hold it while I climb up the ladder?" Elizabeth nodded.
Kathy moved toward the ladder.
"The candles," Elizabeth said softly. "I told you to blow them
out."
Obediently Kathy turned back to the stone slab. She blew out one
of the candies, then stooped over the other one. Just before she
blew on its tiny flame, sho stared over the filekering light and
saw Elizabeth ,rniling at her. She blew out the candle.
As the flame died, Elizabeth snapped off the flashlight and
darted up the rope ladder. Below her she could hear the first
scream of terror burst from Kathy's throat.
"Eliiiiiiiizabeth!" Kathy wailed. "Nooooooo! Oh, God, Elizabeth,
don't leave me here!"
The screams built in intensity, and Elizabeth heard the other
child stumbling around in the blackness of the pit, knowing that
Kathy was trying to find the end of the rope ladder that should
have dangled somewhero in the suffocating darkness. But she had
already pulled the rope ladder out of the pit. Kathy's screams
echoed around her, resounding off the walls of the upper chamber,
pounding against her eardrums. She coiled the ladder, then moved
once more to the top of the shaft.

 181
She threw the beam of Hght downward and watched as Kathy swarmed
into it like a moth around a lightbulb.
Kathy's face tipped up, drained of blood and shining palely in
the uncertain light of the electric torch. Her mouth was
contorted into the shape of the screams that tore upward from
some spot deep in her guts, and her arms were upraised, pleading.
"Noooooo!" she screamed. "Pleeeeeaaaase nooooo.r" Elizabeth held
the flashlight steady and stared down at her friend.
"You have to be quiet in the secret place," she said softly. Then
she snapped the light off and moved to the entrance of the tunnel
by memory, surely, swiftly. She began crawling toward the
surface.
By the time she emerged on the embankment, the roaring of the
surf drowned out whatever remnants of the screams might have
found their way through the tunnel, and Elizabeth was pleased
that she no longer heard sounds from the secret place.
She began making her way deftly up the embankment and disappeared
into the woods.


15

Marilyn Burton didn't begin worrying until eight o'clock that
night. If she had been home earlier in the day she would have
begun worrying then, but, having closed her shop at six as usual,
she had decided to treat herself to a dinner out. She didn't mind
eating alone; in fact, she rather enjoyed it. She talked to
people all day in the store, and it was a relief to spend a few
hours by herself, alone with her thoughts. She heard the phone
ringing as she put her key in the door, just before eight, and a
feeling came over her that something had gone wrong, that she was
about to
be alone with some thoughts she wouldn't enjoy. "Marilyn?"
She recognized Norton Norton's voice immediately, and the feeling
of unease intensified.
"Yes?" she said. "Something's happened, hasn't it?" There was a
short pause before Norton spoke again. "Well, I don't know," she
said uncertainly. "That's why I'm calling you. I've been calling
you all afterBoon."
"Why didn't you call me at the store?" "I did, but the line's out
of order."
Marilyn frowned, then realized that she hadn't had any calls all
afternoon. Nor had she had any reason to call out. The sound of
her daughter's name brought her mind back to Norma Norton.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I was drifting. What about Kathy?"


184 

"That's what I want to know," Norma said, her exasperation coming
clearly over the line. "What about Kathy? She never showed up
after school."
"She didn't7" Mrs. Burton said blankly. "That's strange."
"It's damned inconsiderate is what it is," Norms fumed. "I
thought she might have gotten sick, but she could at least have
called."
"Just a minute," Marilyn said. "I'll check here. I just got in."
She set the phone down, but even as she walked toward Kathy's
room she knew it would be empty. She was doing the same thing she
had done when they'd called her to tell her that Bob was dead.
Postponing the inevitable. Even knowing what she was doing, she
still walked through the entire house before she returned to the
telephone.
"She's not here," she said. She stood dumbly, waiting for the
woman at the other end to pick up the conversation. There was a
long, awkward silence as the memory of Anne Forager's strange
story went through both their minds. Neither of them wanted to
mention it.
"Maybe she went over to see a friend," Norms Norton said gently.
"Maybe she forgot all about babysitting for me today."
"Yes," said Marilyn numbly. "I'll tell you what. Let me make a
couple of calls, and I'll call you back when
I find her. She certainly owes you an apology." "Do you want me
to call Ray?"
"Of course not," Marilyn replied, too quickly. "I'm sure
everything is fine." But she knew it wasn't. She dropped the
receiver back in its cradle and sat silently for a few minutes.
Postponing the inevitable. Then she picked up the phone and
dialed.
"Mrs. Conger7" she said. "This is Marilyn Burton."
"Hello," Rose said warmly. "Don't tell me you've finally decided
to sell that store of yours?"

 185
"No," Marilyn said. "That's not why I'm calling. I was just
wondering if Kathy's out there."
"Kathy?" Rose said blankly. "No. Isn't she home?" She reproved
herself for asking a dumb question. 'Tin sorry," she said
immediately. "Of course she isn't home, is she?"
"No," Marilyn said reluctantly. "I wish she were. Is Elizabeth
there?"
"Yes, of course," Rose said. "Just a minute, I'll call

Jack looked at her curiously as she went to the door of the
study. "Kathy Burton hasn't gotten home from school yet," she
said. "Mrs. Burton is wondering if Elizabeth knows where. she
might have gone." She stepped into the hall and called
Elizabeth's name, then waited until her daughter came down the
stairs.
"It's Kathy's mother," she explained. "She's wonder-
ing if you know what Kathy was doing this afternoon." Elizabeth
walked to the phone, and picked it up. "Mrs. Burton? This is
Elizabeth."
"Hello, dear, how are you?" Marflyn Burton pIunged ahead without
waiting for an answer. "Did you see Kathy this afternoon?"
"Sure," Elizabeth said. "She walked most of the way home with me.
She was baby-sitting for the Nortons today."
"And she walked with you all the way to the Nortons'?" .
"Farther," Elizabeth said. "We were talking about something, and
she walked with me all the way past the Stevenses' house."
"Stevenses?" Marilyn Burton said blankly. "Who are they?"
"Oh, they're the people who bought the Barnes place," Elizabeth
said. "They just moved in."
"I see," Marilyn said. "And Kathy was going to go right back to
the Nortons'?"
"That's what she said," Elizabeth replied. "I tried


186 
tO talk her into coming here for a lithe while, but she said she
didn't have time."
"I see," Marilyn Burton repeated, though she had 'barely heard
what Elizabeth had told her. "Well, I'm
sure she's perfectly all right."
"Didn't she get to the Nortons'7" Elizabeth asked. "No," said
Marilyn Burton. "She didn't. But don't worry. I'm sure she's
somewhere." She dropped the receiver back in its cradle, then
called Norma Norton back.
"Norma?" she said. "It's Marilyu. I think you'd better call Ray."

Rose saw the apprehension in her daughter's face as Elizabeth
hung up the phone.
"What is it?" she asked. "Has something happened to Kathy?"
Elizabeth shrugged and shook her head slowly. "I
 don't know. She never got to the Nortons'." "Where did she leave
you?" Jack asked.
"At the edge of the woods," Elizabeth replied. were talking about
the Steveuses, and Kathy was hop-
 ing if we walked by, maybe she'd get a glimpse of Jeff." "And
did you?" Rose asked arcMy.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't think anybody was home," she
said. "At least, we didn't see anybody. So when we got to the
woods Kathy said she had to be getting back to the Notions'."
There was an uncomfortable s'fienee, and Rose was sure that all
three of them were th'mk'mg about Anne Forager. "Well," she said
finally, breaking the silence. "You'd better get back upstairs
before Sarah misses yOU."
"Yeah," Elizabeth said blankly. "I hope nothing's happened to
Kathy." She searched her parents' faces, as if looking for
reassurance that her friend was all fight. Rose did her best to
smile brightly.
"I'm sure it's nothing serious," she said, with a con-

 187

fidence she didn't feel. Then she decided to voice what they were
all thinking. "After all, nothing happened to Anne Forager, did
it?"
"No," Elizabeth agreed. "But she's a little liar anyway. Kathy
isn't like that." She left the room, and Jack and Rose listened
to her steps echoing up the stairs.
"We ought to get a carpet for that staircase," Jack said
absently.
"That's a stupid thing to say," Rose snapped. She stopped,
surprised at what she'd said. Jack stared at her.
"What did you expect me to say?" he said coldly. "Are we supposed
to sit here speculating on what might have happened to Kathy
Burton?" He saw the anger flare in his wife's eyes, and wished
he'd kept his mouth shut. He picked up his glass and headed for
the bar in the corner of the study.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," Rose said.
"Do you? Well, I'm sorry," Jack said irritably, and poured twice
as much liquor into the glass as he had intended to. He was
preparing for the battle he could see brewing when the phone rang
again. This time it was Ray Norton.
"That you, Jack?" he said when Jack picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Ray," Jack replied. "Shall I guess what you're calling
about?"
"I was wondering if it would be all right with you
if I dropped over for a couple of minutes." "Here?" Jack said.
"Why here?"
"Well," Ray answered. "It seems like Elizabeth was the last
person to see Kathy "
"You're talking like she's dead," Jack interrupted. "I didn't
mean to." Ray Norton was apologetic but firm. "But she does seem
to be missing, and I'd like to hear Elizabeth's story straight
from her."
"What do you mean?" Jack said defensively.


188 
Ray Norton heard the tone of his voice, and hurried to dispel
Jack's thoughts.
"Stop jumping to conclusions," Ray said. "I just don't like
getting information secondhand, even from a mother. In fact,
especially from a mother. I'd rather get it directly from the
source, and from what I know of Elizabeth, she's a pretty
reliable source. Can I drop over for a few minutes?"
"Officially or unofficially7" Jack asked.
"Oh, come on, Jack," Ray replied. "If you're wondering if you
need a lawyer "
"No," Jack interrupted, "I was wondering if I should have a drink
waiting for you. See you when you get here." He dropped the phone
back on the hook, cutfrog off Ray Norton's relieved laughter, and
turned to his wife.
"We're having company," he said.
"So I gathered," Rose said drily. "I take it he wants to talk to
Elizabeth?"
"That's it." Jack nodded. "I guess Marilyn Burton's pretty upset}
and gave him a garbled version of what Elizabeth told her."
"Well, she has a fight to be," Rose said. "Upset, I mean." She
looked at the drink in Jack's hand and was suddenly sorry she'd
criticized him.
"If I apologize for snapping at you, would you mix me one of
those?" She smiled.
Jack mixed the drink, and they sat in front of the fireplace,
waiting for Ray Norton's arrival. "I wonder what really
happened," Jack said finally.
Rose glanced up at her husband, and saw that he wasn't looking at
her but at the portrait of the little girl. She, too, stared up
at it for a moment.
"What do you mean?" she countered. "You mean to her? Who knows?
Who even knows if there really Was a girl such as Dr. Belief was
talking about. And even if there was, there's no way of knowing
if that's the girl."

 189

"If there was a girl, that's the girl," Jack said positively.
Rose looked quietly at him, trying to fathom what was going on in
his mind. "You sound so sure," she said at last.
Jack's lips pursed, and he frowned a little. "Yes," he said
slowly. "I do, don't I. And you know what? I am sure. I can't
tell you why, but I'm sure there was a girl and that that
picture/s the girl. And it terrifies me." Then they heard the
sound of a car coming up the drive, and Jack stood up to go to
the front door. While he was out of the room Rose examined tho
portrait once more, and thought about the legend.
What nonsense, she thought. What utter nonsense.

Ray Norton closed his notebook and smiled at Elizabeth. "I wish
all witnesses were like you," he said2 Once more he ran through
Elizabeth's recounting of what had happened that afternoon.
"And you're sure you didn't hear my wife calling to you?" he
said.
"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said. "But we didn't. In fact, we were
both listening for her. Kathy said she'd have to go in if Mrs.
Norton called her, even though we were early. I'm sorry we didn't
hear her."
Ray Norton nodded noncommittally. Norma hadn't called to the
girls as they passed the house, hadn't even seen them. Ray liked
to throw a curve now and then, iust to see if a witness would
change his story. But Elizabeth hadn't. They'd been alone, and
they hadn't seen anybody or anything unusual, but of course, as
Elizabeth explained, they hadn't been loOking for anybody,
either. Except while they were passing the Nortons', they had
been engrossed in talking about Jeff Stevens.
"And you didn't mm around and wave?" Ray said once more. "I cut
across the field," Elizabeth said. "So I couldn't


190 

have seen Kathy anyway. The woods would have been in the way."
"Okay." Ray sighed. He looked at Jack. 'TII have that drink now,
if it's still m'ound. I probably shouldn't, since I'll have to go
into town, but I hate things like this." He caught Rose's frown
and remembered that Elizabeth was still in the room. "Not that
anything has happened," he added hastily. He took the drink that
Jack was offering, gratefully. "Thanks."
"Can I ride into town with you?" Jack asked. "As a newspaperman,
not as a friend. I'd like to be on top of this one, after what I
took from Martin Forager. Besides, I still have all of this
afternoon's work to catch up on."
"Fine with me," Ray said, draining the drink. "But I can't
guarantee what time you'll get back."
'Tll find a way," Jack said. He went to find a coat,
and while he was gone Ray looked up at the potUnit. "It looks
just like you," he said to Elizabeth.
"I know," Elizabeth said. "But it isn't. It's some,body else.
She's not at all like me."
Rose and Ray Norton stared after her as she left the room.
"Now what did that mean?" Ray said, puzzled. "Don't ask me," Rose
said. "She and Sarah found an old Ouiia board up in the attic.
Maybe she's been talking to ghosts."
"Kight," Ray said with mock seriousness. "I'm sure that's what it
is." Jack returned, his coat buttoned up to his chin.
"See you when I see you," he said, and kissed Rose perfunctorily.
The two men left the house, and seconds later Rose heard Ray
Norton's car grinding away down the driveway. Not knowing why,
she fixed herself another drink.

Ray Norton pulled the car up in front of the Port Arbello
Courier, but didn't turn off the engine.

 191
"Looks like you got burglars," he commented, pointing to a shadow
moving across the drawn curtain of Jack Conger's office. Jack
smiled.
"Looks like Sylvia is trying to catch up on my work, is what it
looks like."
Ray Norton shook his head ruefully. "Sure wish I could get a
secretary like that. At the station they don't even want to do
their own work, let alone mine."
"Yes," Jack said easily, "it is a problem, isn't it. On the other
hand, Sylvia can do my work better than I can, and your girls
can't do your work at all. Any idea how long you'll be?"
"None whatever. Call me when you're through, or I'll call you. If
you wander over later, and ask me nicely, I'll fill you in on
what's happening with Kathy B lEtOn. ' '
"What do you think's happening?" Jack asked.
The police chief looked grim. "If we're lucky, it'll be the same
story as Anne Forager. But we won't be lucky."
"You sound awfully sure," Jack said.
"Call it a hunch. And knowing kids. Don't quote me, but I tend to
agree with the people who say nothing happened to Anne. She's
always been that kind of
kid. Kathy B.lEton's different, though." "Oh?"
"Norma and Marilyn Burton have been fr/ends for years, ever since
they were kids. So I know Kathy. She's a good kid. Responsible,
not the kind that would have let Norma down the way she did
today, unless something happened. Been that way ever since her
father died." Norton shook his head sadly. "That was a tough
break, for Kathy and her mother both. I really hand it to them."
"It was a hunting accident, wasn't it?"
"Yup. Just about three years ago. Really dumb one. He wasn't
wearing the colors, and someone mistook him for a buck. I tell
them the same .thing every year:


192 OHS SAUL

Wear the colors. There's always one or two who don't listen. But
Burton's the only one who ever caught a shot for his trouble."
The chief glanced at his watch. "Well, enough jawboning. Got work
to do." He shifted the car into gear as Jack got out. "See you
later."
Jack watched him pull away and head around the square to the
police station. It was one of the things he liked about Port
Arbello being able to watch the whole town from his front door.
He had been right: Sylvia Bannister was in his office, and she
was trying to do his work. She smiled at him as he came in.
"You just wrote one of the best editorials that's ever
come out of this office," she told him. "Oh? What's it about?"
"Read it yourself," she said, handing him a sheaf of papers.
"Pure dynamite. You are fearless, courageous, and willing to put
your reputation on the line. But modest and humble."
"Sounds great," Jack said. "But what am I being all this about?"
"Rose's plan for the armory."
"How'd you hear about that?" Jack asked, puzzled. "That's
supposed to be a secret.!'
"Not in this town," Sylvia said. "Anyway, you're against the
plan."
"I am?" Jack said blankly. "That'li be great for me at home."
"It won't hurt. You couldn't very well be for it-everyone wouId
accuse you of corruption. This way, you get credit for being
honest and courageous and Rose gets her plan talked about."
"Have you talked this over with Rose?" Jack said doubtfully.
"Of course," the secretary said. "Who do you think thought of the
idea? Didn't she tell you about it?"
"She doesn't tell me about much," Jack said, and

 193

a sudden wave of despondency flowed over him. He saw Sylvia's
face cloud over.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I thought maybe things were getting
better."
Jack smiled, but it was a wry smile. "I thought they were. But
you can never tell. One day things seem to
be going well, and the next all hell breaks loose." "And today
all hell broke loose?"
Jack shrugged and slumped into a chair. He folded his hands over
his stomach and stretched his legs. He was comfortable, and he
hadn't been comfortable for a long time.
"Not really, but it might yet. The night isn't over." Sylvia
looked at him curiously, and he filled her in on the
disappearance of Kathy Burton. When he was finished she seemed
puzzled.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear about Kathy, of course, but I don't see
how it could have any bearing on you and Rose."
"Rose has problems with reference to me and young girls," he said
quietly. He saw the outrage flash into Sylvia's eyes, and it
pleased him.
"But that's ridiculous," Sylvia declared. "For God's sake, she's
been with you all day. What does she think, you spend all your
time, even when you're with her, making trouble for children?"
Jack held his hands out helplessly. "I know. But it makes her
nervous. And I suppose I can't blame her, all things considered."
"Well, I think it's awful," Sylvia said, and Jack could hear
indignation boiling in her. "Is she going to hold one incident
against you the rest of your life? I don't think you should stand
for it. Really, I don't!"
"My God, Sylvia," Jack said. "You sound really

"Well, I guess I am," the secretary flared. "I guess I just don't
think it's right. We know you didn't really


194 

do anything to Sarah, and we know you weren't responsible for
what happened. Not really. You were drunk..." She trailed off.
"But I am responsible," Jack said quietly. "I wasn't that drunk,
and I guess I did beat her. So I do deserve some punishment." His
voice grew quieter. "But it gets hard sometimes," he said softly.
"You have no idea."
"Oh, I might have some idea," Sylvia said gently. She came to
stand behind him, her hand resting gently on his shoulders. As
she continued to talk, her fingers began massaging the tight
muscles of his neck, and he relaxed under her touch. "I'm not
inhuman, you know. I hurt. I carry some pain and guilt with me,
too. And I do the same thing you do. Try to hold it in, and try
to deal with it. Sometimes I wish I could do what you do and get
drunk a few times." She smiled warfly. "But I don't. I'm not
allowed."
"What stops you?" Jack said quietly.
"Me, I suppose. Me, and my puritan background, and my high
ideals, and all the other stuff that got bred into me and keeps
me from liking royserf."
Jack reached up, and his hand closed over hen. He felt her
stiffen, but she did not pull her hand away. Slowly he drew her
around unffi she stood in front of him and he was looking up into
her eyes. They were blue, a deep blue, and Jack had the feeling
he had never seen them before. He stood up.
' "I'm sorry," he whispered, and put his arms around her.
"Sorry?" she said. "For what?" She tried to keep her eyes on his,
but she couldn't. After a moment she broke their gaze and leaned
her forehead against his chest.
"I'm not sure," Jack said above her head. "For eryth'mg, I guess.
For all the trouble you've had, and for all the things I haven't
been able to give you." He tilted her head up and kissed her.
It was a soft kiss, a tender kiss, and it surprised Jack. He had
not planned to kiss her, nor had he real-

 195

ized he wanted to. But as he kissed her it became very clear that
he did want to kiss her and did not want to stop with a kiss. He
felt a heat flood through him that he had not felt in a long
time. And then he felt Sylvia pull away, and he was ashamed.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, and this time he was sum she knew what
he meant. And then he had the distinct feeling that she was no
longer in a serious mood, that, indeed, she was laughing at him.
He looked at her, and there was a mischievous delight playing in
her eyes and at the corners of her mouth.
"I thought you weren't supposed to be able to do that," she said,
suppressing a giggle. Jack felt his face flush as he realized
what she was saying.
"I haven't, for the last year," he said nervously. "I certainly
didn't expect " He began flounder'me. "What I mean is, I hadn't
intended "
"Don't apologize." Sylvia laughed. "Be happy. At least you know
the problem isn't all yours. Apparently it's your wife you don't
turn on to, not everybody."
Jack stared at her, and he felt a weight lifting off his whole
being. Maybe, he thought, things aren't so bad after all.
"Now what do we do?" he said.
She shrugged and walked from the room. "Nothing," she tossed back
over her shoulder. "Not for a while, anyway." He heard her close
the front door of the office behind her, and realized she was
fight. He would need time to think. So, he hoped, would she.


16

Port Arbello sat up late that night.
At ten o'clock, when she was usually in bed, Marilyn Burton found
herself getting into her car and driving out the Conger's Point
Road to spend however long it took with Norma Norton. The two
women sat drinking coffee and talking quietly about anything
except their children, each of them mentioning several times that
the coffee would surely keep them awake all night. They carefully
avoided mentioning that they expected to be awake all night
anyway. Instead, they simply went ahead and drank the coffee.
Shoaly after eleven, Martin Forager appeared at the police
station, his breath reeking of whiskey and his manner truculent.
"Well," he demanded. "Now what have you got to say for yourself?"
Ray Norton glanced up at Forager, and his finger stopped dialing
the telephone on his desk. He was in the last stages of
organizing a search party, and Marty Forager's interruption was
annoying. But he put his an-
noyance aside and spoke mildly. "About what, Marry?"
Forager sat heavily in the chair opposite the police chief, a
surly expression darkening his face. "She hasn't showed up yet,
has she?"
"No," Norton agreed, "she hasn't. But I still don't see what
you're getting at."
"I know what this town thinks," Forager challenged.


198 

"I hear the rumors too. They think my Annie lied. That nothing
happened to her."
"By now Anne was home, wasn't she?" Norton replied quietly. He
glanced at his watch. "Unless I'm wrong, Anne came in at eleven.
It's nearly eleven thirty now."
Forager glared at him. "You wait," he said. "You just wait, and
you'll see. She'H turn up, and she'll turn up with the same
story."
"I don't care what story she has," Norton said. "I just hope she
turns up."
"She will," Marty Forager repeated. "You just wait."
',I will, Marty," Ray Norton said as the man op-posite him got to
his feet. "Where you heading?"
"Saw Conger's lights on," Martin Forager said thickly. "I thought
I'd go over there and see what he's up to."
Ray Norton put on his best policeman manner. "I think I'd go on
home if I were you," he said, his voice turning it from a
suggestion into an order. Forager
swung slowly around to stare at the police chief. "You telling me
what to do7"
"Not really," Norton said affably. "But it's a busy night around
here, and I think it's a busy night at the Courier, too. And it
doesn't concern you, Marty. Go on home, and talk to Jack Conger
in the morning if you still think you want to."
"You and he are pretty buddy-buddy, aren't youT" Forager said
suspiciously. "And you both live out on the Point Road, where all
the trouble seems to be, don't youT' He leered drunkenly at the
policeman, who considered the advantages of putting him in the
one cell Port Arbello possessed to sleep it off. He decided
against it. Instead, he smiled agreeably.
"That's right, Marty. I thought you knew. Ever since I got to be
chief of police and Jack Conger took over as editor of the
Courier, we've been enterta'ming ourselves by kidnapping little
girls. The woods'are full of

 199

the bodies, but nothing will ever be done about it, because
everybody knows that Jack and I are buddies and covering up for
each other. In fact, and don't spread this around, we're queer
for each other, and the real reason we're out messing with little
girls is so that no one will suspect that it's really each other
we turn on to." He stood up. "Now, why don't you go out and
spread that one around, even though I asked you not to? It's at
least as plausible as the story your daughter told."
He immediately regretted his last statement, but then he realized
that Forager was too dlqmk to put together everything he'd said.
"That's all right," Forager muttered under his breath. "You'll
see. Somethin's going on in this town, and it started with my
daughter. You'll see." He shambled out the door, and Ray Norton
stepped out from behind his desk to see where Forager was headed.
He watched until he was sure the drunken man wasn't headed toward
the offices of the Courier, then went back to his desk. On an
impulse, he picked up the phone and dialed quickly.
"Jack?" he said when he heard his friend's voic answer. "If I
were you I'd lock my front door."
"What are you talking about?" Jack Conger said, and Ray Norton
thought he heard a sharpness that didu't fit with the light tone
in which he'd couched his suggestion.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. Marty Forager's
wandering around tonight, and he's pretty drunk. He was just
here, and he said he was going to see you next."
"Is he headed this way?'; lack asked.
"Nah. He looked like he was heading for the tavern, but after a
couple of more belts, he just might forget
what I told him. Or worse, he might remember." "What'd you tell
him?" Jack asked curiously.
Ray Norton recounted the ludicrous story he had


200 

made up for the benefit of the drunk, and was surprised when Jack
Conger didn't seem to think it was funny.
"That's great," Jack said, annoyance twisting his voice.
"WEB, I wouldn't worry about it," Norton said uneas'fiy. "I
imagine he'll forget all about it by morning."
"I hope so," Jack Conger replied. Then he changed the subject.
"What about Kathy Burton?"
"Nothing," Ray Norton replied, shifting to his business tone.
"She hasn't turned up, and no one's seen her. I don't know what
to think. Marilyn Burton's out at my house now, and Norma's
staying up with her. I have a feeling they'll be up a long time."
"Along with the rest of the town," 'Jack observed. He had swung
his chair around, and was staring pensively out the window. There
was a lot of traffic; ears cruising slowly around the square, and
knots of people standing talking under the street lamps. He knew
what they were talking about, and it made him uncomfortable.
"This town talks too much," he said.
"Only when they have something to talk about," the police chief
responded, "and that's not often enough.
 How much longer are you going to be over there?" "I've about got
it wrapped up. What about you?" "Same here. I was just finishing
the calls for the search party when Marry came in. The boys
should all
 be here in another haft-hour, and I want you, too." "Why me? Not
that I'm objecting."
Norton chuckled. "You'd better not. We're starting the search at
your place, and'I need you to help me lead' it. Since we know the
area best, and we're both more or less responsible citizens, I
thought we'd split into two groups. I'll take my bunch to the
quarry and you can comb the woods."
Jack felt a sudden chill, and beads of sweat formed on his
forehead. He hadn't been in the woods for a



year. He tried to keep his discomfort out of his voice when he
spoke again.
"All fight. I'll close up here and head over your way. See you
when I get there."
He didn't bother to wait for the chief to say good-bye before
dropping the phone back in its cradle. He cleared his desk off
and locked it, then his office. He left the lights on in the main
office of the paper, and made sure he locked the door behind him
when he stepped out onto the sidewalk. What with the traffic, and
the questions of the curious, it was a half-hour before he made
it to the police station. That worked out to just about ten feet
a minute.

Rose Conger had tried to work after her husband had left the
house, but hadn't been able to concentrate. She had given it up,
and turned her attention to a book, but again had found herseft
unable to concentrate. Finally she had given it up, and simply
sat, listening to the old clock strike away the quarter-hours,
the halfhours, the hours. The night was beginning to seem
endless. Then she had decided to call Norton Norton, to see ff
she had heard anything about Kathy. Norma, a bit uncertainly, had
invited her to come over and join the watch. Though their
husbands were close, the women had never hit it off particularly
well partly, Rose suspected, because Norton Norton regarded her
not as a human being but as the Mrs. Conger. She welcomed the
opportunity to try to dispel the image.
"I'd love to," she said. "I've just been sitting here getting
more nervous by the minute. Let me find out ff Mrs. Goodrich is
still up. If she's not planning to go to bed for a while, I'll
have her keep an eye on the girls. I'll be there in ten minutes,
or call you back."
She found Mrs. Goodrich watching television in her room off the
kitchen, and the old woman assured her that she'd be up most of
the night. "Seems like the


200 

made up for the benefit of the drunk, and was surprised when Jack
Conger didn't seem to think it was funny.
"That's great," Jack said, annoyance twisting his voice.
"Well, I wouldn't worry about it," Norton said uneasily. "I
imagine he'll forget all about it by morning."
"I hope so," Jack Conger replied. Then he changed the subject.
"What about Kathy Burton?"
"Nothing," Ray Norton repFed, shifting to his business tone. "She
hasn't turned up, and no one's seen her. I don't know what to
think. Marilyn Burton's out at my house now, and Norma's staying
up with her. I have a feeling they'll be up a long time."
"Along with the rest of the tom," 'Jack observed. He had swung
his chair around, and was staring pensively out the window. There
was a lot of traffic; cars cruising slowly around the square, and
knots of people standing talking under the street lamps. He knew
what they were talking about, and it made him uncomfortable.
"This town talks too much," he said.
"Only when they have something to talk about," the police chief
responded, "and that's not often enough.
 How much longer are you going to be over there?" "I've about got
it wrapped up. What about you?" "Same here. I was just finishing
the calls for the search party when Marty came in. The boys
should all
 be here in another haif-hour, and I want you, too." "Why me? Not
that I'm objecting."
Norton chuckled. "You'd better not. We're starting the search at
your place, and 'I need you to help me lead' it. Since we know
the area best, and we're both more or less responsible citizens,
I thought we'd split into two groups. I'll take my bunch to the
quarry and you can comb the woods."
Jack felt a sudden chill, and beads of sweat formed on his
forehead. He hadn't been in the woods for a

 201

year. He tried to keep his discomfort out of his voice when he
spoke again.
"All right. I'll close up here and head over your way. See you
when 1 get there."
He didn't bother to wait for the chief to say good-bye before
dropping the phone back in its cradle. He cleared his desk off
and locked it, then his office. He left the lights on in the main
office of the paper, and made sure he locked the door behind him
when he stepped out onto the sidewalk. What with the traffic, and
the questions of the curious, it was a half-hour before he made
it to the police station. That worked out to just about ten feet
a minute.

Rose Conger had tried to work after her husband had left the
house, but hadn't been able to concentrate. She had given it up,
and turned her attention to a book, but again had found herself
unable to concentrate. Finally she had given it up, and simply
sat, listening to the old clock strike away the quarter-hours,
the halfhours, the hours. The night was beginning to seem
endless. Then she had decided to call Norton Norton, to see ff
she had heard anything about Kathy. Norton, a bit uncertainly,
had invited her to come over and join the watch. Though their
husbands were close, the women had never hit it off particularly
weB partly, Rose suspected, because Norma Norton regarded her not
as a human being but as the Mrs. Conger. She welcomed the
opportunity to try to dispel the image.
'Td love to," she said. "I've just been sitting here getting more
nervous by the minute. Let me find out if Mrs. Goodrich is still
up. ff she's not planning to go to bed for a while, I'll have her
keep an eye on the gifts. I'll be there in ten minutes, or call
you back."
She found Mrs. Goodrich watching television in her room off the
kitchen, and the old woman assured her that she'd be up most of
the night. "Seems like the


202 

older you get, the less sleep you need," she said grumpfly. "Or
maybe it's just arthritis. But you go ahead. Nothing's happened
in this house for fifty years that I haven't been able to
handle."
Rose thanked her and went upstairs to check on the girls. They
were sleeping peacefully, and she kissed Sarah lightly on the
forehead. She didn't want to disturb Elizabeth. Two minutes
before the end of the allotted ten, she had parked her car in the
road in front of the Nortons', and a minute later she was
gratefully accepting a cup of coffee from Norton.
"I'm so sorry about what's happened," she told Marilyn Burton.
"But I'm sure Kathy's all fight. It'll be just like Anne
Forager." The trouble was, none of them knew what had happened to
Anne Forager. They sat together, an uneasy group, and tried to
numb the'it fears with caffeine.

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open when she heard the click of her
bedroom door dosing. She didn't know why she had pretended o be
asleep when her mother opened the door. Usually she would have
spoken, if only to say good night. But she had kept her eyes
closed, and maintained the slow, steady, rhythmic breath of
sleep. And now, with the door dosed again, and her eyes open, she
still maintained that slow, steady rhythm. She lay quietly,
listening to the night sounds, and heard the purring of her
mother's car as it moved quickly down the driveway.
When the sound of the engine faded from her hearing, she rose and
went to the window. She stared off across the field, and almost
felt that she could see into the woods that stood darkly in the
night. For a long time she remained at the window, and a strange
feeling came over her, a feeling of oneness with the forest and
the trees and a desire to be closer to the sea beyond the woods.
She turned away from the window and, her eyelids fluttering
strangely, began to dress.

 203

A few moments later she left her room and moved to the top of the
stairway. She paused there, seeming to listen to the silence,
then began to descend, as silently as the night. She passed the
grandfather dock without even noticing its loud ticking. At the
bottom of the stairs she turned and began making her way toward
the kitchen.
She didn't hear the droning of the television set in the little
room next to the kitchen; if she had, she might have tapped at
the door, then opened it to see Mrs. Goodrich dozing fitfully in
her chair.
Elizabeth opened the refrigerator and stared blankly into its
depths for a moment. Then her hand moved out and her fingers
closed on a small package wrapped in white paper. She closed the
refrigerator door and left the kitchen. In the little room next
door Mrs. Goodrich's sleep was not disturbed by the soft clicking
of the front door, or by the heavy chiming of the clock as it
struck midnight.
Elizabeth moved across the field quickly and faded into the
woods. Once she was there, hidden by the trees, her pace
increased.
The lights of the searchers bobbed in the darkness around her,
but if she was aware of them she gave no sign. Twice Elizabeth
disappeared into the shadow of a tree only seconds before one of
the searchers would have discovered her, and just before she
emerged from the woods onto the embankment she passed within ten
feet of her father. She neither noticed him nor made any sound
that could have penetrated Jack's concentration. He was too
intent on overcoming his fear of the forest to have heard. He
forged on, stolid in his grim search for Kathy Burton.
Soon Elizabeth was once again on the embankment over the sea. She
listened to the surf, and it seemed to her to be a sound she was
used to, a sound she had lived with for much longer than she
could remember. She began making her way down the embankment,


}!

204 
Until she disappeared into the black shadow behind the boulder.
The sounds of the surf, or something else, prevented her from
hearing the snapping of twigs and the breaking of branches behind
her as others fought a path through the woods above.

Kathy Burton wasn't at all sure she was hearing anything, she had
been hearing so much in the past hours. First there had been the
sound of her own screams, echoing back at her like some vile,
dying creature, hammering into her ears. She had screamed until
her voice gave out, then had lain on' the floor of the pit for a
long time, crying to herself, her body heaving with exhaustion
and fear. Then the panic had passed, and she had begun listening
to the muffled sound of the surf, which made a soft backdrop of
noise, preventing silence from multiplying the terror of the
unrelieved blackness. And then she had begun hearing the small
sounds, the tiny scurrying sounds to which she had at first been
able to attach no meanings. Her mind began producing images in
the darkness, images of rats chasing each other around the
cavern, cireling iust beyond her reach. As the images in her
imagination grew stronger, she began to feel the rats, if rats
they were, moving closer to her, s.iffing the air towar
d her, and her fear grew. She retreated to the top of the rock
that only a few hours earlier had served as the table for
Elizabeth's manic party.
She had stayed there, huddled against the darkness, and had felt
herself growing smaller. She imagined herself disappearing, and
it was the least frightenhag of her imaginings, for if she
disappeared she would at least be away. And she wanted to be
away, desperately.
As the hours had worn on, her joints had become stiff from the
inactivity, and from the dank chill that pervaded the cavern.
Finally she had been forced to move, but she had not dared to
leave the flat surface of the rock,

 205

afraid of what she might encounter in the darkness that
surrounded her.
And now she heard a different noise, a scuffling noise from
above. She felt a scream forming in her aching throat, but she
held it back. The scuffling continued.
Kathy craned her neck, trying to find, somewhere in the darkness
above, the shaft that led out of her prison. She thought she knew
where it was, for there was the slightest draft, nothing more
than a general disturbance of the air, and she was sure that the
shaft lay directly above that tiny current of air that was the
only real movement in the pit. Earlier she had stood up and tried
to reach the low ceiling of the cave, but it was just out of
reach, and the inability to even locate the limitations of her
confinement had only served to increase her fear. She lay on her
back now, her face tipped upward into the draft of air she was
sure came from the shaft.
And then she was blinded. She felt her face contract as the light
struck her eyes, daz71ingly brilliant. L'nke a doe trapped in the
beam of an automobile's headlight, she .was frozen to the stone
slab.
Above her, Elizabeth held the flashlight and peered down into
Kathy's terrified face. There was a wild look in Kathy's eyes
that somehow comforted Elizabeth, and she smiled to herself. Then
she heard Kathy speak.
"Who is it?" Kathy managed, her voice sounding strange to her
ears. "Please, who is it?"
"Be quiet," Elizabeth hissed down at her. "You must be quiet
here."
"Elizabeth?" Kathy asked uncertainly. Then, when she heard no
answer, she repeated the word.
"Elizabeth," her voice rasped. "Please, Elizabeth, is that you?"
Above her Elizabeth continued to hold the flashlight steady with
one hand, while the other hand pulled at the white paper that
wrapped the bundle she had brought from the kitchen. When the
paper was free, she spoke.


206 
"Here," she said, her voice almost as harsh as Kathy's strained
rasp. "Here's your dinner."
She flung something downward, and watched as the piece of raw and
bloody meat slapped wetly into Kathy's face.
Kathy didn't see it coming, and when the slab of meat hit her she
recoiled refiexively, and her voice found itself once more. A
howling of fear mixed with revulsion at the unknown wet coldness
that had hit her face roared out of her throat and filled the
cavern with sound. The dull roar of the surf disappeared, and all
the small noises were drowned in the sound of Kathy's terror. And
then Elizabeth's voice, harsh and ugly, cut through the scream.
"God damn you!" Elizabeth shouted. "Shut your fucking mouth! Shut
up!" she kept screaming, as Kathy's voice slowly died away. "Shut
up.t'' And then the silence closed over the cave again, until the
murmur of the surf found its way in once more.
"Eat it," Elizabeth commanded- "Eat your dinner." Below her,
Kathy's eyes began to adiust to the rent in the darkness. She
lo9ked down and saw the raw steak gleaming redly in the circle of
light from the flashlight above. She stared at it and tried not
to listen to Elizabeth's voice commanding her from above.
"Pick it up," Elizabeth was saying. "Pick it up, you little
bitch, and eat it! Come on, pick it up and eat it. Pick it up.
Pick it up. Pick it up."
The voice from above took on a hypnotic quality, and suddenly
Kathy found herself holding the limp and bloody object in her
hands. And then the order from above changed.
"Eat it," Elizabeth commanded. "Eat it. Eat it. Eat it.t"
Helplessly, Kathy moved the raw meat to her lips. The light
clicked off.
Kathy sat for a long time, crouched on the slab of rock, the
piece of meat clutched in her hands, listening

 207

to the scuffling sounds dying away above her. And then, finally,
it was silent; still she sat in the blackness, like some wary
animal, waiting for an unseen enemy to leap forth from the night.
She became aware of the fact that she was hungry. Slowly her mind
began to focus once more on reality, and she wondered how long
she had been trapped in the hole, how long it had been since she
had eaten. She thought about the bloody object in her hand.
Somewhere in her mind she found some little note, some scrap of
information, that told her that some people ate raw meat. She
felt her stomach jerk, and for a moment she thought she was going
to throw up. Then the nausea passed, and once more she felt. the
pangs of hunger. She made up her mind.
Kathy forced the raw meat into her mouth and began chewing. She
was glad now for the dark. She knew she wouldn't have been able
to eat it ff she had been able to see it.
The scurf'rag began again when she was halfway through the steak.
She stopped gnawing at the meat and listened. It grew louder;
then, when it sounded as though it was directly above her, it
stopped.
Kathy started to say something, then thought better of it. Acting
more on instinct than on reason, she suddenly leaped from the
rock, something in her subconscious telling her that the danger
from the pit was less than the danger from above. She huddled
against the wall of the cavern and waited for the beam of light
to come once more through the shaft, heralding a fear that would
be bigger than the fear of the darkness and the silence. But
there was no beam of light, no rasping, ugly voice obscenely
commanding her from above. Insmad, there was a sharp crash, as
though some object-some hard object had been dropped from above.
There was another silence, and then the scuffling
gan again, fading slowly away until it melded fully into


208 

the background of the surf. Kathy stayed huddled against the
wall.
When her legs told her that she would have to move, she began
groping her way once more toward the center of the cavern. Her
hands found the large slab of stone, and she began cautiously
going over its surface, not wanting to find the object that had
been dropped, but afraid not to find it.
And then her fingers brushed against something. She drew away as
though the object were hot, then moved back. She bgan examining
the object with her fingertips. It was hard, and round, and sort
of flat. It seemed to be covered with some sort of cloth and then
she knew what it was. She picked up the canteen and shook it. It
sloshed.
Carefully she unscrewed the top and sniffed at the contents.
There was no odor.
Finally she worked up her courage and tasted it. It was water.
Thirstily, Kathy drank. The water was soothing to her painful
throat.

As she awoke the next morning, Elizabeth's eyes widened in
surprise at the pile of dirty clothes sitfrog in the center of
her bedroom. She stared at it curiously, wondering where the
clothes could have come from. She decided that Sarah must have
left them there during the night, and gathered them up.
Depositing them in the laundry chute, she went downstairs for
breakfast.
A few minutes later Sarah woke up, and she too found a heap of
filthy clothes on the floor of the room. She got out of bed and
put them on. Then Sarah, too, went downstairs and silently took
her place at the breakfast table. Her parents looked at her in
horror. Elizabeth stood up, came around beside her, and took her
hand.
"Come on, Sarah," she said gently. "You don't want W wear those W
school."

 209

Elizabeth led her sister back upstairs as Rose and Jack Conger
looked at each other. Neither of them could think of anything to
say. They were too frightened.


17

Time crept slowly through Port Arbello that week. Marilyn Burton,
still valiantly postponing the inevitable, opened her shop each
day, and each day she smiled at her customers and assured them
that, no, she was sure nothing too bad had happened to Kathy and
she would turn up. Deep inside, though, she knew that Kathy would
not turn up.
Ray Norton expanded the search parties, and the men of Port
Arbello began a systematic search of the entire area, each day
sweeping a wider are around the town. Norton did not expect them
to find anything, but it kept them busy, and kept them from
listening too closely to Martin Forager's charges, repeated
drunkenly in the tavern each evening, that the police weren't
doing anything. Norton hoped he could keep the searchers working
for at least ten days, at the end of which time he hoped to have
something more solid to go on than a simple vanishing.
The women of Port Arbello found they were drinking much more
coffee than usual, and burning much more gas than usual, as they
all took to transporting their children to and from school. All
except the people along Conger's Point Road, where Anne Forager
had allegedly been attacked, and where Kathy Burton had
apparently disappeared. The families on Conger's Point Road did
not discuss what was happening, nor did they consult each other
on the best way of handling the situation. It was as though,
individually, they had each


212 JOH SAUL
deidd that nothing would happen if they did not admit that
anything was wrong. So the children of Conger's Point Road
continued to walk to and from school each day. If anyone noticed
that there was an unusual amount of automobile traffic on the
Point Road as each of the mothers found an errand or two to do in
town during the hours the children would be walking, no one
commented on it. Silently they preserved the appearance of
normalcy, and the sight of the constant search parties reassured
them.

Thursday morning Elizabeth found herself almost running from the
house to the Conger's Point Road. She would have cut across the
field, coming to the Road at the base of the woods, but she felt
slightly embarrassed. When she got to the Road she glanced
quickly to the right, then deliberately slowed her pace and tried
to assume an air of nonchalance. For the third morning in a row,
Jeff Stevens was waiting for her.
Tuesday morning she had assumed it was a coincidence. She hadn't
questioned him about how he happened to leave his house just as
she passed the woods. Instead, she had simply fallen in beside
him, and surrendered her books when he had taken them from her.
Wednesday morning he had been waiting for her by the Steverises'
mailbox, and she wondered ff he had been told to escort. her to
school. As if he had read her thoughts, he reached for her books
and smiled.
"Tomorrow morning you can carry m'me," he'd said. "I'm glad you
live out here. It isn't any fun, walking by myself."
So on Thursday morning Elizabeth approached Jeff and held out her
hands.
"My turn," she Said, grinning at him. When he faded to respond,
she spoke again. "You said I could carry your books today."
Jeff handed his books over silently and told himserf not to
forget to get them all back before they were in


 213

sight of the school. The teasing had been bad enough when he'd
carried Elizabeth's; if she were seen carrying his, he'd never
live it down.
He tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to his
mind. Which was all right with him, since he seemed to find
himself stammering a lot when he tried to talk to Elizabeth. He
wondered if he was developing a crush on her, and decided he
probably was.
"You're awfully quiet this morning," Elizabeth said, making Jeff
blush a deep red.
"I was . . . uh . . . I was just thinking about Kathy Burton,"
Jeff managed to say, and the blush deepened. What was wrong with
him? He'd known what he was going to say. Why couldn't he just
say it?
"I wonder what happened to her," Elizabeth said, frowning a
little. "Maybe Anne Forager wasn't lying after all."
"Except she's still around, and Kathy isn't." This time Jeff
pronounced each word carefully and managed not to stammer.
"I hope they find her," Elizabeth said. "She's a good friend of
mine. She baby-sits for the Nortons a lot, and we used to walk
together."
Jeff suddenly found himself hoping maybe they wouldn't find Kathy
Burton. He wasn't sure he wanted to walk with Elizabeth and
someone else too. He decided being fourteen was lousy.
He forgot to retrieve his books from Elizabeth until they were
inside the building. Thursday morning Jeff Steveas took a
terrific ribbing at school.

By Thursday afternoon Port Arbello had begun to accept the
reality of the situation. Marilyn Burton found that her cash
receipts were dropping back to a normal level; fewer people were
stopping by "just to have a little chat" and staying to buy an
article or two out of guilt more than need.
Ray Norton was beginning to cite the cars that were


214 

habitually overparked on the square; he had decided on Thursday
morning that an investigation of a missing child should not be
used as an excuse for overlooking less serious matters.
Things were getting back to normal.

Mrs. Goodrich was once more in the laundry room, and when she saw
the extra sets of filthy clothes she shook her head ruefully. She
thought about separating them from the rest of the laundry and
bringing them up again to Miz Rose, then remembered what had
happened the last time she had taken such action. She decided it
would be wasted effort. So she put the soiled clothing in a tub
and added extra soap and bleach to them as they soaked. Two hours
later, when they came out of the dryer, they were as clean as
new. As clean as Mrs. Goodrich's demanding standards called for.

Outside the Port Arbello school, Elizabeth Conger stood
uncertainly, searching the faces of the children as they emerged
from the building. For a moment she thought she might have missed
the one she was watching for. Then she suddenly smiled and waved.
When there was no response from the object of her efforts, she
called. "Jimmy," she yelled. A small boy looked up. "Over here,"
she called, waving once again.
Jimmy Tyler was small for his age, but not by so much that it was
a strong disadvantage to him. It was only an inch, and his father
had told him that by the time he reached his next birthday he
would surely be as big as the other eight-year-olds. But when you
are seven, eight seems like a long way off, so Jimmy made up for
his slight disadvantage in size by being more agile than anybody
else. Particularly in climbing. Jimmy Tyler would climb anything,
and one of his favorite sports was climbing higher and faster
than any of his friends. Then he could look down on them, and
that made him feel good.

 215
He looked up when he heard his name, and saw Elizabeth Conger
waving at him. He waved back, then saw that she was waiting for
him. He hurried his step.
"Want to walk home with me?" Elizabeth asked him. The Tylers
lived even farther out the Point Road than the Congets, and this
week, much to Jimmy's surprise and pleasure, Elizabeth had been
waiting for him each afternoon, and walking home with him. He
liked Elizabeth, even though she was a girl. He supposed that,
since she was almost twice as old as he, that didn't count.
Anyway, none of his friends had teased him
about walking with a girl yet. "Okay," he said brightly.
They walked silently for most of the way, and it wasn't until
they were in front of the Steveuses' home that Jkmmy spoke.
"This is where it happened, isn't it?" he said curiously. "Where
what happened?" Elizabeth asked.
"This is where Kathy Burton disappeared," Jimmy said, his young
voice expressing no particular reaction to Kathy's disappearance.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I guess it must be."
"Do you suppose they got her?" Jimmy asked, pointing to the ugly
old house above the sea.
"No, I don't," Elizabeth said flatly. "Those people aren't like
the Barneses were."
"Well," Jimmy said doubtfully. "I still don't like that house."
"I used to think it was haunted," Elizabeth said, teasing him,
"when I was your age."
"I don't believe in ghosts," Jimmy said, wondering whether he did
or not.
"You don't?" Elizabeth said, but there was a new sound in her
voice, as if she was suddenly talking more to herself than to
Jimmy. "I didn't used to, but now I'm not so sure."
"Why?" Jimmy Said.


216 

Elizabeth seemed to jump back into the here and now. "What?" she
asked.
"I said, why?" Jimmy asked .again. "Why do you believe in them
now if you didn't used to?"
"Oh," Elizabeth said. "I don't know." She suddenly felt
uncomfortable, and quickened her pace. Jimmy Tyler almost had to
trot to keep up with her.
"Slow down," he said finally. "I can't keep up."
They were near the woods now, and Elizabeth paused, staring into
the trees.
"If anything's haunted around here, it's in there," she said.
"In the woods?" Jimmy asked. "Why would anybody want to haunt a
woods?"
"Because of something that happened there. Som thing bad, a long
time ago."
"What happened?" Jimmy demanded.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I almost know, but I don't know
yet."
"Will you tell me when you find out?" Jimmy's voice rose a notch.
"Please, Elizabeth? Will you?"
Elizabeth smiled down at the child beside her and reached down to
take his hand.
"I'll tell you what," she said softly. 'TI1 try to find out what
happened this afternoon. Can you come over to my house at four
thirty?"
"I don't know," Jimmy said doubtfully. "Why don't you call me? My
mother doesn't usually let me go outside that late. It's starting
to get dark by then now, and 8he doesn't like me to be outside in
the dark."
"If you want to know what happened in the woods," Elizabeth said
enticingly, "come over at four thirty. It won't be dark till
after five. Besides, Sarah wants to play with you."
"How do you know?" Jimmy said trnculently. "Sarah can't talk."
"I just know," Elizabeth said. "You be here by four

 217

thirty, and I'll tell you about why the woods are haunted."
"All right," Jimmy agreed finally. "But it better be good. I
don't believe in ghosts." He started to walk away.
"By the maLlbox," Elizabeth called after him. "Meet us by the
mailbox." Jimmy Tyler nodded and waved, and Elizabeth watched him
continue down the road. She wondered: what she'd tell him that
afternoon, and why she'd told him the woods were haunted at all.
It occurred to her that it was a silly thing to say. Jimmy was
fight, of course. There was no such thing as ghosts. Well, she'd
make up some kind of story, and. at least Sarah would have
someone besides herself to play with. That would be nice.

At four thirty Elizabeth and Sarah were waiting by the mailbox
that stood across the road from the end of the Congers' long
driveway. Elizabeth saw the small form of Jimmy Tyler trudging
toward them and waved. He returned the wave.
"See?" Elizabeth said to Sarah. "Here he comes, just like I told
you."
Sarah stared at Elizabeth, and there was nothing in the huge
brown eyes that told Elizabeth that her younger sister had even
heard her. But she knew she had. She smiled at Sarah, but Sarah
still did not respond. She simply stood, patiently waiting, as
Jimmy Tyler approached.
"I can't stay very long," Jimmy said when he caught up with the
girls. "My mother told me I have to be in before it gets dark."
He glanced at the sun, which was falling steadily toward the
horizon behind them.
"Let's go out in the field," Elizabeth suggested. "Let's play
tag."
"Does Sarah know how?" Jimmy said, neither knowing nor caring
whether the subject of his question could


2 18 

hear or understand him. Elizabeth looked at him reproachfully.
"Of course she does," Elizabeth said. "And you'd better hope
you're never It, because she can run a lot
faster than you. She can even run faster than me." "Who is going
to be It?" Jimmy wanted to know. "I will be," Elizabeth said.
"I'll give you both till I count to five to get away. One two
three -" Jimmy Tyler was already bounding across the field. Sarah
simply stood there, looking at her sister. Elizabeth stopped
counting and put her hands gently on Sarah's shoulders, bending
her knees a little so she was on the same level as the smaller
girl.
"We're going to play tag," she said softly. "And rm It. You have
to get away from me." Sarah seemed not to hear for a moment; then
she bolted suddenly, as if the idea had at last penetrated her
mind, taking off across the field in the direction that Jimmy
Tyler had taken. "Four five.t" Elizabeth called out the last
number and set off after the two other children.
She knew she could catch either of them whenever she wanted to,
but she didn't try too hard. They seemed to be enjoying dodging
away from her, and a couple of times she deliberately let her
foot slip when she was only inches from one of them, and listened
to Jimmy laugh as she tumbled to the ground. Then, when she
sensed Jimmy's interest in the game lagging, she suddenly caught
up with him. "You're It," she cried, dashing away from him. He
stopped suddenly, as if stunned at the turn the game had taken.
Then he grinned happily and set off after Sarah.
Sarah played the game with a determination not to be found in
other children. When Jimmy ran toward her, she turned and fled
from him at a dead run, her head bent forward, her small legs
pumping beneath her steadily. It was quickly obvious that Jimmy
didn't stand a chance of catching up with her. Elizabeth worked
her

way around and headed Sarah off. When she got close to her
sister, she called to her, and the sound of her name caused Sarah
to look up. She broke her stride and paused for a minute.
Eli7abeth dashed toward Jimmy as Sarah watched.
"I told you you'd never catch her," she crowed to the boy.
"But I bet I can catch you," Jimmy shouted back, and he shifted
his concentration from Sarah to Elizabeth. Chasing Elizabeth was
more fun, anyway; she dodged around, and didn't try to keep a
straight course. He began trying to outguess her, and didn't
notice that as Elizabeth darted to and fro she was working her
way closer and closer to the woods. He didn't realize it until
she suddenly collapsed in a heap and let him catch her.
"I give up," she laughed, trying to catch her breath. "I can't
outrun you."
He fell on the grass beside her, then sat-up. "Look," he said.
"We're almost into the woods."
"Yes," Elizabeth said. "I didn't think we were this close. Maybe
we'd better go back."
"No," Jimmy said firmly. "I want to hear about the woods.. Did
you find anything out?"
"There isn't anything," Elizabeth said. "Nothing at

"I'll bet there is." Jimmy pouted. "You just don't want to tell
me."
"Well," Elizabeth said slowly, gazing off into the trees, "there
is a secret place. Only Sarah and I know about it."
Jimmy's eyes widened with interest. "A secret place?" he echoed.
"What kind of a secret place?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't think you'd like it," she
said. "It's kind of scary."
"I'm not afraid," Jimmy declared. 'Tin not afraid of anything.
Where is it?"

 219


220 

Elizabeth smiled at him. "It isn't really in the woods," she
said. "It's on the other side."
A frown knit Jimmy's brow. "There isn't anything on the other
side. Only the ocean."
"That's where the secret place is," Elizabeth insisted.
"I want to go," Jimmy demanded, his voice rising a little.
"Shhh," Elizabeth cautioned him. "Don't frighten Sarah."
"Does she tighten easily?" he wanted to know. "Sometimes. Not
always, but sometimes."
Sarah sat quietly with them, and it would have been impossible
for an observer to tell whether she was following the
conversation. She would look first at one, then at the other, but
not always at the child who was speaking. She seemed to be
hearing a conversation of her own, a conversation completely
separate from the one Elizabeth and Jimmy were having. Jimmy
looked at Sarah speculatively.
"Is she afraid of the secret place?" he asked. "I don't think
so," Elizabeth said uncertainly.
"Are you?" Jimmy asked, hearing the hesitation in her voice.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said after a long pause. "I think maybe
I should be, but I'm not."
"I want to see it." It was no longer a request, but a demand.
Jimmy Tyler set his face in an expression of stubbornness and
looked steadily at Elizabeth. "I want to see it," he repeated.
"It's getting late," Elizabeth said carefully.
"I don't care," Jimmy said firmly. "I want to see the secret
place, and I want to see it now."
"All right." Elizabeth gave in. "Come on."
They got to their feet, and Elizabeth led them into the woods.
She did not move through the woods as swiftly today, or as
sure-footedly. Instead, she moved carefully, and several times
had to stop and look around, as if she was looking for markings
on a trail. At last

 221

they came out of the woods and stood on the embankment.
"Where is it7" Jimmy asked. "Is this it?" There was
disappointment in his voice. Elizabeth looked around and wasn't
sure which way she should go. She felt uncomfortable today, and
something inside her was telling her not to go any farther, to
turn back before it was too late. But she didn't know what it
would be too late for. All she knew was that she seemed to have
lost her bearings somehow, and was unsure of which direction to
take. She heard a strange b72zing sound in her ears, a buzzing
that didn't drown out the sound of the surf, but seemed to make
it hazy. She struggled with herself, and was almost on the verge
of turning back into the woods when she heard Jimmy's voice.
"Look," he was saying. "Sarah knows the way. Let's follow her."
Elizabeth looked frantically around, and there was Sarah, picking
her way slowly down the face of the embankment, moving back and
forth from one toehold .to the next. Jimmy followed behind her,
his agile litfie body having no difficulty in keeping up.
Elizabeth hung back for a moment, then reluctantly followed.
As she moved down the embankment, the confusion lifted from her,
and she knew where she was go'me. Her step grew sure, and she
began moving with the suppleness and agility that had always
before taken her so swiftly to the large boulder that hid the
entrance to the cavern tinreel.
And then they were there. The three of them huddled together in
the shadow of the immense rock, and Jimmy looked at Elizabeth
quiically.
"Is this it?" he said, his voice implying that it was less than
he had expected.
"This is the entrance," Elizabeth whispered. "Come On."
And suddenly she was gone. Jimmy stared at the spot where she had
crouched an instant before, and then he


222 3OHN SAUL

realized that there must be a tunnel. Eagerly, he foilowed
Elizabeth into the hole in the face of the bankrecur.

In the pit, Kathy Burton was not immediately aware of the
scuffling sounds from above. She lay on the floor of the cave,
the water container clutched in her hand. She had lost it once in
the darkness, and had had to spend what seemed like an eternity
searching for it, ranging back and forth across the cold damp
floor of the cavern, not knowing whether she was searching all
the area or only circling over a small portion of it. At one
point in her gropings in the dark her hand had closed on a
strange object, and it had been a few moments before she reali7ed
that it was a bone, a part of the skeleton that still lay neatly
along one wall.
Another time her hand had brushed against the furry surface of
the corpse of the cat, and she had retched for a few moments
before being able to continue her search.
The smell in the cave was getting foul, for the flesh of the cat
was beginning to rot, and Kathy had had to relieve herself
several times. Mixed in was the sour smell of her retching.
She had found the water bottle at last, and had developed the
habit of clutching it whenever she was awake. When exhaustion
overcame her and she fell into a fitful sleep for a few moments,
the bottle stayed beside her, and it was the first thing she
groped for when she woke up.
She had stopped hearing the sound of the surf long ago, she
wasn't sure when, and the only sounds that still registered on
her mind were the scrapings of what she thought had been rats. It
had turned out that they weren't rats, but tiny crabs, scuttling
among the rocks, finding refuge and food among the small pools of
sea water that collected here and there from seepage. She had not
yet tried to eat one of them, but she was afraid

 223
she was getting close to the point where she would have to. She
was pondering the wisdom of this when she suddenly became aware
of the sounds from above.
She froze where she was 'and waited quietly. She wanted to cry
out, but was afraid to; she didn't know what was above her. And
then the beam of the flashlight hit her, for the first time in
three days. By now her eyes were so used to the total blackness
that the light was physically painful. She heard a voice above
her, but could not make out the words.
"Look," Jimmy Tyler was saying, his voice kept low
 by sudden fear. "There's somebody down there." "Shh," Elizabeth
said. "They'll hear you."
"I'm afraid," Jimmy said, his fear of the cave overcoming his
fear of being thought a coward.
"It's all fight," Elizabeth soothed him. "They can't get up
here."
And then Kathy Burton opened her eyes, and moved her head into
the beam again, looking upward. She tried to speak, and found to
her dismay that she couldn't. All that came out was a low
gurgling sound.
"It's Kathy," Jimmy said. "We've found Kathy Burton."
"Yes," Elizabeth said slowly. "We have, haven't we." Jimmy Tyler
did not notice the strange tone that had crept into her voice,
the odd rasping sound.
"What's wrong with her?" he whispered. "Is she all right?" He
raised his voice. "Kathy," he called. "It's me. It's Jimmy."
Below, Kathy Burton felt a surge of relief come over her. She was
safe. Jimmy Tyler would bring help, and she would get out of
here.
"Go get someone," she whispered hoarsely. "I can't hear you."
She heard his voice echo down. "Help!" she croaked, a little
louder.
Jimmy turned to Elizabeth. "We've got to get her out of here," he
said. "I'd better go get someone."


224 JOh' SAUL

"No," Elizabeth whispered. "Let's get her out now. Thcre's a
ladder here. Look." She showed him the ladder. "It won't hold me,
but I'll bet it would hold you. You can climb down and find out
if she's all right. If she is, she can climb back up with you."
Jimmy considered it for a moment. Hc had never climbed a rope
ladder before, but, on the other hand, he was the best climber he
knew. And he thought of how neat it would be if he got the credit
for saving Kathy Burton Rftcr the whole town hadn't been able to
find hcr.
"It's all fight," he called down the shaft. "I'm coming down."
And suddenly, in the pit, Kathy realized with terrible clarity
what was about to happen. She tried to call out to him, but her
voice wouldn't carry through her fear. She watched in horror as
the rope ladder appeared in the shaft. She tried to get up, to
move to the ladder and grasp the end, but she was too weak. She
watched in s'dence as immy Tyler started climbing slowly down the
ladder.
It happened when he was a little more than halfway down: Above
him, Elizabeth gathered an her strength, and clutched at the rope
ladder with both hands. And then she yanked.
If he'd been expecting it, Jimmy would have been all right. But
he wasn't expecting it, and he felt first one hand and then the
other come loose from the slippery ropes. He was falling. He
tried to break the fall, but it was too late. He landed on his
head beside Kathy Burton, and lay still.
The shock of it forced a scream from Kathy's ragged throat, and
she found enough strength to make a single lunge at the rope
ladder, Helplessly she watched it disappear up the shaft once
again. And then she heard the ugly, rasping voice that she had
come to associate with Elizabeth.

 225
"Take care of him," Elizabeth said. "Take care of your little
brother. He needs you."
The light clicked off, and Kathy listened as the scuffling sounds
faded away once more. She began groping in the dark for Jimmy
Tyler.

It was almost dusk as Elizabeth and Sarah made their way through
the woods, and as they crossed the field night fell darkly over
Port Arbello.


18

The next day there was no school in Port Arbello. The school had
opened as usual, but by nine o'clock it had become obvious that
the teachers would be sitting in all but empty classrooms. The
few children who showed up were dismissed. But they refused to
go. All had explicit instructions from their parents not to leave
the school. They would be picked up, even the ones who lived only
a block or two away.
The panic had built all through the night, from the moment Jimmy
Tyler's mother had called Ray Norton to advise him that her son
had not come home that afternoon. Well, actually, he had come
home, she admitted under questioning, but he had gone right out
again to play. And then he had not come home. No, she did not
know where he had gone.
Yes, she supposed she should have found out, but she had assumed
that he was going to stay near their house; after all, there
weren't any children his own age to play with. In fact, the only
children close enough to be convenient were the Conger children.
Ray Norton's forehead creased into a frown when Lenore Tyler
mentioned the Conger children. That made three cases in the area,
though he was still inclined to doubt Anne Forager's strange
story. He wondered what time Marty Forager would show up to
be,gin abusing him about his handling of things in general and
the case of his daughter in particular.


228 

When he finished talking to Lenore Tyler, Norton started to call
Jack Conger, then thought better of it. He decided to wait awhile
and see what developed. He turned his attention instead to
another problem, a problem that he thought could be potentially
worse than the one of the missing children. The children's
disappearance was a fact. There was nothing he could do about it
for the moment, except try to find out where they had gone.
The reaction of Port Arbello to the disappearances was something
else again. This, Ray Norton thought, was predictable, and he
didn't like what he saw coming.
Port Arbello was not used to dealing with crime. Port Arbellans,
in fact, were part of that great mass of Americans who knows that
crime exists but never feels it personally. They lived in an
atmosphere of trust; they had no reason not to. For most of his
career, Ray Norton's time had been taken up with citing speeders
(most of them tourists) and keeping the peace at the tavern.
There had been an occasional suicide in Port Arbello, but that
was not unusual for New England, particularly during the winter.
The crimes that plagued the country, the urban crimes that make
urban people barricade their doors, were essentially unknown in
Port Arbello. There had never been so much as a mugging, let
alone a murder, at least not in the last hundred years. The town
was so innocent, indeed, that it was only in the last few days
that the people had begun installing new locks on their doors.
Until now they had felt perfectly comfortable with the old locks,
locks that could be opened with almost any key t
hat came to hand.
But now they were frightened, and Ray Norton found it worrisome.
Particularly with a man like Marty Forager doing his best to fan
the fires. Ordinarily. nobody paid much attention 'to Marty
Forager, but now he had something to use as leverage, and Ray
Norton was convinced that he would use it to his best advantage.
Ray was very much aware that Martin Forager resented

 229
the position he held in Port Arbello. Not that he could blame
him; who, after all, would want to be known as "poor Marty
Forager" a phrase always accompanied by a sorrowful shake of the
head and words of pity for his wife and daughter.
He was pondering the situation, trying to figure out the best way
to deftme it, when his main worry appeared in his office.
Marty Forager loomed over him, and Ray Norton could see
immediately that he had already been drinking.
"I came to tell you," Forager said, his voice surly. "There's
going to be a meeting tonight. A town meeting. Since you don't
seem to be able to do anything about what's going on in this
town, we're going to see if we can come up with some ideas of our
own." He stared down at the chief of police as if wailing to be
challenged. Ray Norton looked up at him.
"Am I invited?'7 he asked mildly. The question apparently took
Forager by surprise, as he stepped back a pace.
"No way we can keep you from coming," he said reluctantly. "But
you ain't running it," he added.
"I would assume that Billy Meyers will be running it," Ray said
quietly. "He's still president of the council, isn't he?"
"This's a citizens' meeting," Forager sneered. "Not a council
meeting. Nobody's gonna run it."
"I see," Norton said, standing up. He was pieused to note that
Forager moved back another pace. "In that case, you can count on
me showing up. I always wanted to see a meeting nobody was
rimsing. It ought to be fascinating."
Marry Forager glowered at him, and Ray thought he was going to
say something more. Instead, Forager simply wheeled and stalked
silently out of the police station. Norton watched him_ go and
decided it was time to call Jack Conger.


230 J'OHN SAUL

"Jack," he said when the editor wu on the phone. "I'm afraid
we've got trouble."
'Not another child," Jack said. "I don't think the town could
stand it."
"No," Norton replied. "It's not that. It's the town I'm worried
about now. Martin Forager was just here again." Quickly he filled
Jack in on what Forager had told him, and made sure that the
editor understood Forager's manner as well as his words.
"In other words," Jack said after he'd heard Ray
Norton out, "you see a lynch mob developing." "I wouldn't say
that,': Ray said slowly.
"Not for publication, anyway," Jack gibed at him. "But that is
what you're saying, isn't it?"
"Well, I don't think it's gone that far yet," the police chief
began.
" But that's the direction it's taking," Jack Conger finished for
him. "Any ideas about who Forager wants to stxing up?"
"I think I'm at the top of the list," Ray replied, trying to put
some banter into his voice. Then he became more serious once
again. "Frankly, it's you I'm worried about."
"Me?" Jack said, his voice reflecting a disbelief he did not
feel. "Why me?"
"Well, we might as well face the facts," Norton said. "All the
things that have been happening have been happening near your
place."
"That's not quite true," Jack corrected him. "Anne Forager says
she was near our place, but no one knows for sure. Kathy Burton
was last seen near our place, but it would be more exact to say
she was in front of the Steveuses' house. After all, Elizabeth
said they parted at the woods, and that's right at the property
line. And as for Jimmy Tyler, we don't know anything about him at
all. The Tylers live a good quarter of a mile farther out than we
do. So why do you think they'll fOCUS OR me?"




"Ii'S natural," the policeman said smoothly. "Everything's
happening on Conger's Point Road. So who comes to mind when you
think of Conger's Point Road? Conger, of course."
"I see," Jack said slowly, "What do you think I should do?"
"I think you should come to that meeting tonight, and I think you
should come to it with me,"
"After what you told Marty Forager about us?" ack said, still
managing to cling to a shred of humor, however black. Ray Norton
chuckled.
"Well, if we have the name, as the man says, we might as well
have the game. Seriously, though," he went on. "I think you'd
better plan to be at that meethag tonight, ff for no other reason
than not to be conspicuous by your absence."
"Well," Jack said doubtfully, "I'm not sure I go along with your
reasoning, but I'll be there, if not as a private citizen then as
the editor of the Courier. If they all know they're going to be
quoted, it might help to keep the lid on things."
"Maybe with some of them, but not with Marty Forager. I think
he's beginning to think of this whole mess as a one-man crusade."
"Yes," Jack mused. "He is that sort of person, isn't he? Do you
want to ride in to the meeting with me?"
"Fine," Ray agreed. "Pick me up a little before seven. I'll find
out where it's going to be, and either get back to you or tell
you when I see you." The conversation ended.

"Is there anything I ought to do?" Rose asked. They were in the
small study. Rose had listened in silence as Jack told her of the
meeting he would have to attend, and the direction that Ray
Norton was afxaid it was going to take.
"Maybe I ought to go with you," Rose continued.


232 

"No," Jack said. "I don't see any reason for that. I think you
ought to stay here with the girls."
Rose looked at him, trying to fathom his mood. He seemed worried
about something, but she wasn't sure what it was.
"Surely you don't think anything's going to happen to them, do
you7" she asked.
Jack shrugged. "I don't see how. Not as long as you're here and
they stay in the house," he said. "But
I'd feel more comfortable if I knew what was going on." "Jimmy
Tyler," Rose said slowly. "That's odd." "What's odd?"
"That he should disappear. I mean, suppose Anne Forager's story
is true, and frankly I'm beginning to think it is. Well, then, at
least it makes some kind of sense for Kathy Burton to have
disappeared. But Jimmy Tyler?"
"I don't see what you're getting at," Jack said, aithough he was
afraid he did.
"Well, let's face it," Rose said. "There haven't been any kidnap
notes or ransom demands, have there? So what does that leave? A
nut. Some crazy person who gets turned on to children. Little
girls. Except that now Jimmy Tyler is missing, too, and he
doesn't fit the pattern."
"If there is a pattern," Jack said reluctantly.
' "Isn't there?" Rose was looking into his eyes. "Don't you see a
pattern?"
"Yes," Jack said finally, "I suppose I do." He hoped that what
was hanging between them, unsaid, would remain unsaid. "And it
doesn't help matters that it's all happening out here, does it?"
"No," Rose said quietly. "It doesn't." She was about to say more
when Elizabeth appeared at the door. Rose
wondered how long she had been standing there. "Mother?"
Elizabeth said uncertainly.
"Come in, darling," Rose said, glad of the interruption.

SUFFER THE CmLDREN 233

"Is it true that Jimmy Tyter's gone too?"
Rose glanced .at Jack, unsure of hoit to handle the question, and
saw that she was on her own. She could see no point in denying
it.
"Yes, he's been missing since yesterday afternoon." "What time?"
ElizabethI wanted to know.
"Why, I don't how," Rose responded, puzzled. "I don't think
anybody knows, really. But no one's seen him since after school."
"I walked home with him yesterday," Elizabeth said slowly, as if
trying to remember something.
"You did?" Rose said. "You didn't tell me that." "I. guess it
didn't seem important," EHzabeth said, and Rose got the definite
impression that her daughter was thinking about something else.
"Is something bothering you, dear?" she asked the

"I I don't know," Elizabeth said hesitantly. "It's just that I'm
not sure " She broke ott, and Rose prompted her again.
"Sure of what, Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth shifted her weight from one foot to the other,
uncomfortable. Finally she sat down and looked at her mother, a
worried expression on her face.
"I don't know, really," Elizabeth said. "But I thought I saw
Jimmy yesterday afternoon."
"You mean after you walked home with him?" Jack asked.
Eli-'abeth nodded. "But I'm not sure it was him," she said, as if
it was somehow important that whoever she had seen might not be
Jimmy Tyler.
"Where did you think you saw him?" Jack pressed.
"In the field," Elizabeth blurted. "Playing with Sarah."
"But you couldn't see them clearly?" Rose asked, knowing what was
coming.
"They were too far away," Elizabeth said miserably. "They were
almost to the woods."


234 om, sAUL
"I see." Rose sighed. She avoided looking atafraid to see if he
was feeling the same g she was feeling. Instead, she,spoke again
to her daughter.
"They were by themselves?" she asked, and hoped that Elizabeth
wouldn't hear the implied criticism. After all, Rose reflected,'
she isn't Sarah's nurse. She wished she could have retracted the
question, but didn't how she could.
"yes," Elizabeth said apologetically. "I was in my room. I
wouldn't have seen them at all if I hadn't looked out the window.
I thought Sarah Ws in her room. I-I'm sorry." ....
"It's all fight," Rose heard lack say. "You aren't responsible
for Sarah." Rose wished she'd said it. "Why don't you go
upstairs, honey, so your mother and I can
Elizabeth left the room. Rose had the impression that she left
only because she had been told to, that she wanted to stay. But
there was nothing more to be said. She looked at her husband, but
hel was avoiding her gaze. The silence stretched until Kose could
bear it no more.
"I don't how what to think," she said at last, "I'm not sure I
want to think at. "
"Maybe we'd .ca!l Dr. Belter," lack said. "lqo,'-Rose said, too
sharply. '"I mean, call him

lqow it was lack's turn to sigh tiredly. "Don't you
 think it's time for us W face up to it?" he said. '"I don't .how
what you're talking about,"
Jack smiled ruefully. "What do you suppose would happen to us ff
we both decided to bury our heads in the sand at the same time?"
"All right," Rose said after a short silence, her voice stronger.
"You're right, of-course. I suppose we're going to have to accept
the possibility that Sarah is getting dangerous. Is that it?"
"That's it," Jack said. "Of course, it may easily not'

SUFFER THE .CHILDREN 235
be true, but I don't think we can air here and do nothing. Not
considering what's been happening."
"Let8 tulle to her," Rose said desperately. "Let's at
 least try to talk to her before we do anything." "What good'it
it do?"
"I don't know," Rose said. "But we can at least try, can't we?"
Her eyes were beseeching him, and finally Jack stood up.
"All right," he said. "Shall I go get her?"
"No!" Rose said immediately. "I'll get her. You wait here."
While she was gone, Jack mixed himlf a drink_ The hell with the
meeting, he thought.
A few minutes later Rose was back, leading Sarah by the hand. She
followed along docilely, almost as if she were unaware of what
was happening. She wasn't resisting, but she didn't seem to be
actively involved, either.
Rose sat the child' down, then knelt beside her. Sarah sat
quietly on the sofa, staring vacantly into. the air in front of
her face. After a minute or two her right hand
went up and her thumb disappeared into her mouth. "Sarah," Rose
said quietly.
Sarah continued to sit, sucking her thumb, apparently not hearing
her mother's voice.
"Sarah," Rose repeated, a little lender. "Do you hear me?"
Sarah's head turned, and she peered blanldy at her mother. Rose
made t distinct effort not to turn away.
"Sarah!" Jack said sharply. The child's head swung around, and
her gaze fell on her father. Jack met her eyes for a moment, but
he was not as strong as Rose. He broke the eye contact, and
sipped his drink.
"Sarah," Rose said again. "Were you playing with
Jimmy Tyler yesterday?" No response.
"We need to know," Rose said. "Can't you at least nod your head?
Were you playing with Jimmy Tyler


236 ,OHN SAUL
yesterday? Jrnrny Tyler!" she repeated, more loudly, as if her
child were hard of hearing. Her frustration rose as her daughter
continued to stare vacantly into her eyes. Her hand moved to her
forehead and brushed back a nonexistent stray hair.
"Sarah," she began again. "We know you were playing with Jimmy
Tyler in the field yesterday. It's all fight. All we need to know
is if you went into the
woods. Did you go into the woods?" No response.
"For God's sake, Sarah," Rose pleaded. "It's ter= ribly
important. Please, please, try to understand. He went home,
didn't he? Jimmy Tyler went home?"
Sarah continued to Stare at her mother. The silence hung heavy in
Ithe room. And then, very slowly, Sarah shook her head.
The meeting in town was chaotic, and Jack was sorry he had agreed
to take Carl Stevens with him. Jack was embarrassed for the town,
and he knew he had not been good company- All he could see, first
on the way to Ray Norton's house and then ,as they drove into
Port Athello, was a vision of Sarah staring darkly into the
distance and slowly-shaking., her head. Over and over again Jack
tried to tell himself that it was a good sign, that Sarah.
finally had responded to something. But over nd ove he would
remember what she had responded to the question Rose had asked,
and despair would close in on him again. Jimmy Tyler had not gone
home. Sarah knew that Jimmy Tyler had not gone home. The time was
getting very near when all of them he and his wife and Elizabeth
and Mrs. Goodrich were going to have to accept the fact that
Sarah would no longer be with them. But not yet.
The faces of the people of Port Axbello loomed around him, and
Jack found himself unable to meet

SUFFER THE CILDREN 237

some of the eyes that he imagined were staring at him accusingly.
Marilyn Burton greeted him .warmly, but he was sure he heard a
false note in her voice. Lenore Tyler smiled and waved, and Jack
wondered why she hadn't spoken. Had she guessed?.
Although Marry Forager had claimed that there was to be no
chairman-at the meeting, he did his best to run it his way.
'Fhere's something going on in this town;" he shouted, "and it's
going on out at Conger's Point."
Suddenly all the eyes in the packed auditorium were turned on
Jack, and he realized he would have to say something.
He stood up and faced the town. Suddenly they were no longer his
old friends; suddenly he was no longer Mr. Conger of Conger's
Point Road. Suddenly Conger's Point was something to be afraid
of, not respected. And he was the man who lived there.
"I don't know what's going on," he began, and a murmur ran
through the crowd, a murmur that Jack was afraid could turn the
crowd into a mob. He'd have to do better than that. He listened
to his own words and wondered 'where they came from.
"My daughter saw Jimmy Tyler yesterday afternoon." "How did she
tell you that? Sign language?" a mock ing voice shouted from the
rear. Jack flinched and fought to contain his sudden rage.
"Elizabeth saw Jimmy Tyler," he heard himself say. Down by the
old quarry. She talked to him. She told him to go home. She Xold
him it*was a dangerous place to play, but he didn't pay any
attention to her. She told me that when she came home,. just
before dark, he was still there. That's all."
Jack sat down, and felt the eyes of the town staring curiously at
him. He wondered if they knew he was lying, and tried to convince
himself that he had lied only because of the way the meeting was
going, because of


238 jom SAUL
the' feeling he had gotten of a mob on the verge of rampage. But
he knew that that wisnt true either. He had lied to protect his
daughter. His baby daughter.
Then they formed a posse. They' called it a search party, but
lack knew it was a posse. Ray Norton tried to stop them, but
there was nothing he could do. Perhaps if Marilyn Burton hadn't
been there, or Lenore and Bill Tyler had stayed away, Norton
could have controlled the situation. But the fact was that they
were there, and their very presence, combined with the rantings
of Martin Forager, amused in them the desire to do something.
Anything.
 And so they went out to the old quarry. Ray Norton in t . 
lotrod a spot to a!.jVetY el the mad. If there .anthere, Ray
Norton wanted to make sure it stayed there. He didn't want any
evidence obliterated by fifteen cars driving over the soft
ground. Norton organized them as best he could, and the men of
Port Arbello spread out to search the area. It was ironic that
the only person to find anything was Martin Forager.
What he found was tire tracks. They were fresh, and they were of
an odd sort. As the men gathered to examine them, Jack Conger
smiled to himself. The tracks would strengthen his story.
They were preparing to leave the quarry when Ray Norton drew him
aside.
"Well," Jack said when they were sitting alone. in Norton's car,
"at least you have somtmng to w,,.. ,, ·
"Yeah," Norton said, but he didn't look too hopeful. "I just
wonder what those tracks  lead to. If you ask me, we'll never
even find the car  left them. But thatis not .what I wanted-to
talk to you about."
J!wk lookl..the polic qsfioningly. Norton looked uncomfo.le,: as
if he wernTtquSzte sure how to begin; Heretided the, the :be,t.
way was the most direct way.

SUFFER THI CHILDREN 239

"Look, Jack," he said. "I how what I'm about to say sounds silly,
but I have to say it anyway. Or,' rather, ask. How much do you
know about the old legend about 'your family?"
Jack tried to mile, but underneath the smile he felt chilled.
"I know there is one," he said carefully. "What's it got to do
with all of this?"
"Nothing, probably," Norton said. "If I remember fight, there was
supposed to be a cave involved, wasn't there?"
lack nodded. "Yup. The old lady claimed it was somewhere in the
embankment. But of come she never
claimed to ave seen it, except in her so. called vision." "Well,
what about it?"
Jack looked at the policeman blankly. "What about itT'
"Does it exist?"
"The cave?" Jack said incredulously. "Are you serious? My God,
Ray, the cave was never anything but the · figment of an
old,lady's imagination. If someone told the same story today
they'd say she was senile. And they'd be right."
"But didn't anyone ever look for it?" the police chief persisted.
"Sure," Jack said. "My grandfather did. And it cost him his life.
That embankment is a dangerous place. Ifs steep and slippery and
treacherous. Fortunately, we've had the legend to keep all the
kids away from the place."
"And none of them ever went to find out if there was anything
there?" Norton said curiously. "You know, when I was a kid the
one thing I always wanted to do was go look for that cave. But I
couldn't."
"Why not?" Jack asked. "The embankment was there."
"Ah, but it was on the CongeE' property. Don't forget, when I was
a kid your family was almost royalty


240 JoI-IH SAUL

around here. We may have wandered all over everybody else's land,
but not the Congets'."
Jack chuckled, remembering. It had almost been like that when he
had been a boy. "WEB, let me set your mind at rest," he said. "Of
course I went to look for the cave. And I imagine my father did
too. But I didn't find it, probably because it simply isn't
there. If it was, I'd have found it."
"Okay," Norton said. "I was almost hophg you'd never looked, and
that we could turn the damned thing up. I can't turn the whole
town out searching for it, not when all I have to go on is an old
tale of a senile woman's visions. We'd probably lose three men in
the looking. So I guess it's back to the quarry. I hope you won't
have any objections to my sending out a crew to drag it?"
"Of course not," Jack said. "Any time you want. But, God, I hope
they don't find anything."
"So do I," Norton agreed. "So do I."

An hour later Jack Conger was home. He went upstairs to say good
night to his daughters, and it seemed to Rose that he was staying
much too long with Elizabeth. She was on the verge of going up to
see what was keeping him when he came down. When he entered the
study he looked tired but he was smiling.
"Well," ,he said, fixing himself a nightcap. "If nothing else, at
least I've bought us some time."


19

Neither-Rose nor Jack slept that night, but they wero quiet, each
of them. with their own thoughts, eaeh of them wanting to
postpone the time when they would have to make decisions.
They tried to avoid their thoughts as they lay in bed, side by
side, separated by their fears. Jack kept repeating the story he
had told to the town meeting, over and over, until even he began
to believe it. Before the blackhess of night began fading into a
gray dawn, he had most convinced himself that Sarah had not been
playing in the field with Jimmy Tyler; that instead Elizabeth had
seen Jimmy at the quarry and instructed him to go home. But with
the dawn the truth came back at lim; and reality reentered his
life along with the sun.
As ff by mutual consent, they began talking about it at
breakfast. They had risen early, since nexther of them had slept,
and they sat in the silent house, sipping coffee and trying to
figure out what they should do.
"I suppose we should call Dr. Belter," Rose said. "No. Not yet."
Jack knew she was fight, but somehow calling Dr. Belter
,symbolized defeat for hlm and he wasn't ready for that yet. "I
mean, what could we tell him?" he went .on, and he knew he was
rationalizing as much for himself as for his wife. "Became
E!i7beth saw Sarah and Jimmy playing together is no reason for us
to jump to conclusions."
"'No," Rose agreed. "It isn't. But it seems to me we have a duty
that goes beyond our own family. If Sarah


242 ,teEn SAUL

has anything to do with this, even if she only has something to
do with Jimmy Tyler, I think we have to tell somebody. And Dr.
Belter seems the logical person to tell. And, of course, there's
Sarah' to be considered." 'Sarah?"
Rose wore a pained expression, and Jack knew it was difficult for
her to say the things she was saying. He wondered ff it was as
difficult for her to speak as it was for him to listen.
"What about her?" Rose said. "ff she is doing something, and I'm
not saying she is, she isn't responsible. She needs help. How can
she get the help she needs ff 'we aren't even willing to talk
about what she's doing?" She stopped talking for a moment and
stirred her coffee fitfully. "Maybe we ought to search the
woods," she said. 'ff something did happen, it mut have happened
there. Unless they got as far as the embankmenL" She rned, but
there was no warmth in iL "At least we how thereis no cave, so we
don't have to-look for

"I don't-know whether there's a cave or not," Jack said quietly.
Rose looked at him sharply.
"What do you mean? Didn't you tell Ray Norton last night that
you'd spent most of your boyhood looking for it and it doesn't
exist?"
"Yes," Jack said uncomfortably. "That's what I told him But it
wasn't any truer than anything else I told anybody last night."
Rose set her cup down and stared at him. "You mean you lied about
the cave, too?" she said incredulously.
He nodded miserably, and it struck Rose that he looked very much
like a small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. For
some reason it made her want to laugh, though she felt anytFnng
but mixthe.
"Why on earth did you lie about that?" she asked him when her
laughter died. Her'voice was mocking, and it made lack flush.
"Because I didn't want them poking around the

 243

woods and the embankment, that's why," he said vehemently.
"But they!11 poke around the woods anyway," Rose said, taking on
the voice of a teacher with a recalcitrant pupil. "Besides,
they've already searched the woods..They did that when they were
looking for Kathy Burton."
Then a thought came to her, and she searched Jack's face
carefully, looking for the answer to the question that had come
into her mind. It was there, in his hangdog expression, in the
defensive light that glimmered in his eye.
"You believe it, don't you?" she said. "You believe in the
legend. Is there a cave there?"
"I don't know," Jack said softly. "I never looked." "Why not?"
Rose demanded. "Are you going to sit there and tell me that, with
a wonderful legend Like that, you never once, you and your
friends, never once went looking for that cave?" Her eyes widened
in astonishment as he shook his head. "Well, for heaven's sake.
That legend actually worked." Now her laughter came in gales,
partly at the idea of her husband putting enough faith in the
legend never to investigate it, but mostly as a simple release. A
release of the stress she had been carrying. It was not pleasant
laughter, and it did not make the house ring. Instead it echoed
dully through the room, and then came back to hang heavily
between them.
"I think," Rose said finally, "that it's time we had a 10ok at
that embankment. If there is a cave there, I think we should know
about it. I think the whole town should know about it."
"You look ff you want," Jack said softly. "Frankly, I'd rather
not know."

Jack Conger arrived in his office early that morning, before any.
of the staff had gotten in. When they arrived, at eight thirty,
they found his office door closed and the


244 

red Hght above it lit. All of the staff except Sylvia
Bannister respected the warning light. Sylvia ignored it.
She walked into the inner office without knocking. Jack looked up
but did not speak.
"Bad night?" Sylvia said sympathetically.
Jack put down his peneft and leaned back, rubbing his .eyes. "It
depends on what you call a bad night. If you call lying to the
whole town, lying to the chief of police, asking your oldest
daughter to lie too, getting no sleep, and then topping the whole
thing off with making yoursell look like a fool to your wife_-it
you call that a bad night, then I suppose I had a bad night.
Otherwise it Was fine."
Sylvia sat down. "Do-you want to tell me about it?" "No," Jack
said irritably, "I don't. I want to be left alone, to try to get
my head straightened out. If that's all right with you."
He was already garing again at the piece of paper on the desk in
front of him, and chewing on the end of the pencil, so he
couldn't see the look of hurt that came into Sylvia's face. She
stood up and smoothed her skirt.
"Of come," she said coolly. "I'm sorry I bothered you.":She left
the room, and when Jack heard the door close he looked up again,
looked helplessly at the door through which the woman had just
passed. He wanted to call her back. He didn't.
He worked for an hour, writing and rewriting, and when he was
finished he read what he had written. Then he crumpled the pages
and threw them into 'the wastebasket.
It had been an editorial, and when he had finished writing it and
reread it he realized that it could as easily have been written
by Martin Forager as himsell. He had attacked the police chief,
even suggested that perhaps it was time Ray Norton was replaced.
He had demanded some answers about what had really happened to
Anne Forager. And he had suggested, but in terms

SUFFER THE CmLDEEr 245

that denied their own content, that it was time for the citizens
of Port Arbello to form a lynch mob. He had not, of course, used
that term. He had called instead for a "protective association,"
but it amounted to the same thing. In shorts'he had written a
hypocritical, selfserving editorial, designed to undermine the
police chid and at the same time entrench Jack'Conger as a
concerned citizen. Jack Conger realized that he was trying to
throw Ray Norton off a trail that Ray Norton didn't evea know he
was on. A trail that could lead only to Sarah, who couldn't
possibly be considered responsible for anything she might have
done. He retrieved the editorial from the wastebasket and read it
once more. He decided, objectively, that the editorial had served
its purpose very well.
He burned it in the wastebasket and picked up the telephone. It
was time to talk to Charles Belief.

Dr. Charles Belter listened carefully to everything Jack Conger
told him. It took more than three hours for Jack to put it all
together for the doctor, and several times he had to backtrack,
going over a point several times, filling in background or
amplifying. Dr. Belief listened patiently, interrupting as little
as possible', he felt it was important to listen not only to what
was being said but also to how it was being said, and in what
order. The mind tended to attach priorities to things, Dr. Belter
knew, and often much could be learned not from the points being
made, but from the order of the points and their relative
importance to the person making them. When Jack finished Dr.
Belter leaned-back, his hands folded comfortably over his ample
stomach.
"So you don't know whether or not' there really is, or was, a
cave?' he said. "Was?" Jack repeated. "What do you mean, was?"
"Only that there might have once been a cave, but that it got
filled in, or collapsed. It isn't important. Just a mind that
deals with details functioning in its usual

.t


246 Jom SAUL

picky way. Forget I said it. The important thing is that you
don't know whether or not thecave is reaR."
"No, I don't. And I don't see how it matters."
Dr. Belter lit a cigarette and shook the match out before he
spoke again. "I don't how," he said at length. "Does it matter?"
"What are you getting at?" Jack asked suspiciously. Dr. Belter
smiled at him. "WEB, it just seems to me that you've attached a
lot of importance to that cave. After all, you did go so far as
to tell the chief of police that it definitely doesn't exist.
That tells me a couple of things."
"Such as?" Now there was definite hostility in Jack's voice.
"First, that you think there is  cave. If you were really sure
that there was .no cave, and that the legend was only a legend,
why would you want to try to talk Norton out of searching for it?
After all, if you're sure it doesn't exist, then you don't have
to worry about it being found, do you?"
'"What's the second thing?" Jack asked, without conceding the
first.
"Why, that's easy," Dr. Belter said with a grin, leaning forward
over his desk. "You're not only sure there's a cave, but you're
afraid of what might be found in it."
"That's the-stupidest thing I've heard of in a long
time," Jack said angrily. "Is it?"
Jack knew he was reacting more out of fear than out of anger, and
he wondered why. What was he afraid eL9 Then he decided he wasn't
afraid o; he was afraid 1or. He was afraid for Sarah.
"It's Sarah I'm worried about," he said nervously. "Are you?" the
doctor asked, and Jack thought he heard a mocking tone in his
voice. '"Let's talk about that for a minute then. Exactly what
are you worried about? Are you worried that Sarah has been
terrorizing

SUPFER THE CHILDREN 247

little children, then shoving them into a cave? That's what I
would call one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of. For
one thing take a look at Sarah's s'me. She's not big, is she? In
fact, she's small for her age, and a bit underdeveloped." He
noticed the look of anger that was coloring Jack's face and held
up a hand. "Oh, come on. I didn't say she was abnormally small or
underdeveloped. Physically she's well within the normal range.
But on the small side of the average, rather than the large side.
Now tell me,, do you really think a girl the size of Sarah could
do much to a girl the size of Kathy Burton? Kathy Burton, from
what Fve found out, was big for her age, and somewhat athletic.
So, considering that she's also a year older than Sarah, I don't
see much chance that Sarah could have done anything to her. Anne
Forager and Jimmy Tyler I don't know about. They're both younger
than Sarah, and a bit smaller. But Kathy Burton wouldn't have
taken any guff off of Sarah."
"I understand that children with... mental problems · . .
sometimes show remarkable strength," Jack said.
"You've been watching too many movies. Oh, sure, it can happen,
but it's rare, and it only happens for short periods of time,
under what we call hysterical conditions. The same things happen
with so-called normaR people. The mother who lifts the car off
her crushed child? Those things can happen. Under severe stress,
the body simply shoots itself up with adrenalin, and you have a
surge of strength. But it's rare, and it's for very brief periods
of time. Seconds, not the time it would take to do what you're
suggesting."
"I'm not suggesting a thing," Jack said coldly. "Aren't you? I
think you are. I listen carefully, you know. It's my profession.
And here's what I heard you saying. Not directly, mind you, but
by implication. And all because Elizabeth said she saw Sarah
playing with someone who looked like Jimmy 'Tyler.
"You see Sarah dragging children into the woods,




beating them, and then taking them and dumping them in a cave
somewhere. Am I right?"
Jack shifted in his chair with discomfort. The doctor had stated
his thoughts too closely. "'Go on," he said, not at all sure he
wanted to hear any more, but feeling that hemust.
"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, that theory is ridiculous.
Not only would Sarah be totally unable to sustain the kind of
abnormal strength that would he necessary for such a feat, but
even if she could, can you imagine the difficulties ih hauling
someone your own size down the face of that embankment? You've
said yourself that it's tricky for an adult by himself. It sounds
like it would be impossible for a child carrying another child of
almost the same size."
Jack thought it over and felt an odd sense of relief. The doctor
was right; it didn't make sense. He and Rose had been
overreacting. And why not? The last days had not been easy for
anyone in POrt Arbello, and Rose and Jack Conger were no
exception. He felt a grin come over his face, and it felt good.
"Well, that's done with, anyway," he said. "Have you got any
other ideas?"
Dr. Belter leaned forward, and his expression took on a
seriousness that made the grin fade from Jack's face.
"Yes, I have. Mr. Conger, have you ever suffered from blackouts?
Recently?"
It took nearly a full minute for the implications of what the
doctor had just said to sink into Jack's mind. When it finally
did and he gasped what Dr. BeR was suggesting, he had to fight to
control himself. Trembling, he got to his feet.
"Only once, Doctor," he said coldly. "And we both know what
happened-that time. Since then, never." He left the doctor's
office without another word, and without waiting for Charles
Belter to respond.
"How can you be sure?" the doctor said to the closed

 249

door and the empty room. "How can you be sure you never have
blackouts?"

It was noon when Jack returned to the paper. He dosed the door
behind him, and a moment later the red light above his door
flashed on. The staff of the Courier looked at one another
curiously, but none of them was willing to speculate'on what was
going on. Instead, they all glanced at the clock and began
drifting away to lunch. When 'the office was all but empty,
Sylvia Bannister looked at the dosed door. She hesitated a
minute, then punched the button on the-intercorn on her desk.
"I'm going to lunch now," she said. She waited for an answer, and
when none came began putting on her coat. She was ready to leave
the office when the intercorn suddenly came alive.
"Can you spare me a minute?" lack's voice crackled through the
wire.
Sylvia took off her coat and rehung it on the hook. Then she
smoothed her skirt and entered the inner office.
She had been prepared to be cool to her employer, but the
expression on his face changed her mind.
"You're not all right, are you," she said, making it more a
statement than a question. Jack looked up at her, and she was
sure she saw tears trying to make their way out of s eyes.
"I just got back from talking to Dr. Belter."
"I wondered where you went," Sylvia said, lowering herself into
the chair opposite him: "Why did you go see him?"
"I'm not sure, really. I thought I was going to talk about Sarah.
About what to do about her. But he didn't
want to talk about Sarah." "Oh?"
"He wanted to talk about me."


250 

Sylvia smiled at him reassuringly. "Is that such a bad idea? We
can all stand to talk about ourselves now and then. And you
haven't been having it too easy lately, have you?"
"That wasn't what he wanted to talk about. He seems to think that
I might be the one who's after the kids."
Sylvia stared at him in complete disbelief. "You? You must have
misunderstood him."
"No. I didn't misunderstand him, He wanted to know if I've been
having any blackouts lately."
'That is the most disgusting thing I've heard in a long time,"
Sylvia said, her voice reflecting the sickness she felt in her
stomach. "That happened a year ago. Not last week, not last
month. A year ago. Thirteen months, actually. Does he seriously
think it would happen again now? Three times? Besides, we know
where you were when the children disappeared."
"On the day Kathy Burton disappeared I was in his
office, as a matter of fact," Jack said, smiling thinly. "Then
what's he trying to do?" Sylvia demanded. "I don't know," Jack
said. "But, God, it scares me. If that's what he think.q, what
will the rest of the town think?"
"I haven't any idea, but I know what I think. I think it's
insane, and I think Dr. Belter needs to have his own head
examined."
She stood up. "And I think you and I should go have some lunch.
At my place."
Jack looked at her with no comprehension.
"Jack," Sylvia said softly, "don't you think you've absorbed
enough? Take some time off for yourself. Even if it's only a few
hours with me. You need it. Really, you do. And so do I."
They .drove in silence to Sylvia's house, and talked quietly
while she fixed their lunch. They avoided the sensitive subjects,
but it wasn't the studied avoidance that created a distance
between Jack and Rose when

SUFFER THE CILDREN 251

they were consciously staying away from something. In= stead, it
was an easy avoidance, a mutual agreement to talk about things
that made them comfortable, and they trew closer.
They didn't go back to the Courier that afternoon. They started
to, but they changed their minds. Instead, they spent the
afternoon in Sylvia Bannister's bed, and it was good. It was good
for both of them. For the first time in a year, Jack Conger lay
comfortably in a woman's arms. Sylvia Banniter was content. And,
for the moment, so was

The two children in the cave clung together, as they had for
almost thirty-six hours. Jimmy Tyler had been unconscious for the
first hour he was in the cave, and for a long time Kathy had been
sure he would die. But he hadn't died, and eventually he had
awakened, terrified in the darkness. Kathy had'tried to soothe
him and explain to him what had happened. Her voice had been
weak, and she had had several periods of incoherence, but the
very sound of a human voice in the blackness had seemed to soothe
Jimmy, and eventually. he had calmed down. And then they had
waited.
They stayed close together, never moving far enough apart so that
they couldn't touch each other, and when they slept, they slept
in each-other's arms.
Jimmy was terrLtied by the strange scrabbling sounds, but when
Kathy told him what they were he tried to catch one of the tiny
crabs. Eventually he succeeded, and popped one into his mouth. It
was bitter, and he promptly spat it out, retching. Kathy gave him
a mouthful of the water to wash the taste away.
They talked now and then, Jimmy mostly, since Kathy's voice was
weak and her throat hurt her badly now, but for the most part
they simply sat silently, holding hands, wondering how long they
had been trapped in the cavern and how long they would be kept
there.


252 

It was during one of the times that Jimmy was talking that Kathy
suddenly squeezed his hand.
"Shhh!" she hissed. He felt her hand grasp his even more tightly,
and stopped talking. Above him Jimmy heard an odd scuffling
sound. As the scuffling grew 1ouder, Kathy's hand continued to
tighten on his, until it began to hurt. He sensed that the
'sounds from above were frightenlug Kathy, and the fear was
contagious. He forgot the pain in his hand as he strained to hear
what was happening overhead.
"Put your hand over your eyes," Kathy whispered to him. He didn't
know why he should, but he followed her instructions. A moment
later he saw a dim red glow through the flesh of his fingers. He
opened his fingers slightly and saw a beam of light shining down
from the shaft above. Squinting, he removed his hand from his
eyes, then opened his eyes completely as they grew used to the
light. Kathy st'ill sat huddled next to him, one hand clutching
his, the other clasped tightly over her eyes.
"It's all right," he whispered. "If you squint the light doesn't
hurt your eyes."
Tentatively, Kathy took her hand from her face, and began letting
her eyes adjust tO the unaccustomed light. The light held steady,
and there was silence from above. Curiously, the two children
looked at each other. While they were searching each other's
faces, they heard a plopping sound. Jimmy started to speak, but
Kathy clapped a hand over his mouth. Both of them saw the small
package, wrapped in white paper, that lay in the middle of the
pool of light. Jimmy struggled free from Kathy's grip and
scurried into the light to snatch it, like a rat snatching a
piece of cheese from the middle of a floor, then darting back to
its hole.
He unwrapped the package. "Look," he said. "Sandwiches."
Kathy looked at the food, and her hunger overcame her fear. She
grabbed at one of the sandwiches and

SUFFER THE CI-IILDREN 253

shoved it into her mouth. Jimmy was gobbling at the food with the
hunger of a small child not used to going without.
The nausea hit both of them simultaneously, and suddenly both of
them were lying on the floor of the cave, retching furiously. The
sandwiches,the wonderful gift from above, were stuffed with sand.
Sand, and seaweed.
From above they heard the awful, maniacal laughter, and they knew
that it was Elizabeth up there,' holding the light steady,
watching them puke. Instinctively Kathy and Jimmy squirmed away
into the protective darkness, like subterranean animals creeping
away from the sun. When they were completely out of the pool of
light, the beam of whiteness suddenly disappeared, and they heard
the sounds of Elizabeth creep'rag away toward the surface. Kathy
and Jimmy cried quietly, clutching each other's hands.


20

The following Sunday was one of those leaden, gray days when fall
seems to take a perverse pleasure in giving a preview of the
winter to come. In Port ArbeHo the weather only accented the
depression that hung over the town, and the tavern did a brisket
business than usual, On an ordinary Sunday morning, only Marry
Forager could be counted on to step over the threshhold,
announcing that he was there for "services." He would then stay
through the day, and shnete out only after he had finished
'espers." Butlon-the Sunday following Jimmy Tyler's
disappearance, the churches of Port Arbello found their pews
packed for the early service, and the tavern found its stools
packed for Marry Forager's services.
The -Congers did not go to church that Sunday morning, nor did
they show up at the tavern. They wonlcln't have gone to the
tavern anyway, and they had omitted church by mutual consent,
neither stating why they chose to stay home, neither wanting to
hear? the reasons voiced. It was as ff they sensed something
coming, and hoped they might be able to avoid it by staying in
their house. They were o __g their morning coffee ritual,
silently, when the telephone rang.
"I'll get it," they heard  call from upstairs. A moment later
they heard her call down agakL "It's for you, Mother. Mrs.
Stevens."
"Barbara," Rose said, trying to sound more cheerful than she
felt. She had, indeed; been growing as depressed


256 om SAUL
as anybody else in Port Arbello, but was able to hide it by using
her "professional" voice. "I was beginning to think you people
had " She'd been about to say "died" when she thought better of
it. She didn't bother to try to find a better word. "That was. a
hell of a thing to say, wasn't it. Well, I guess that's what's on
all our minds these days."
"That's why I'm calling," Barbara Stevens replied. "I'm tired of
the only wpic of conversation in Port Arbelle, and I should
imagine' you are we. And the weather's too lousy to work on the
house, so Cad thought a game of bridge on a wet afternoon might
be in order. Do you play?"
"I'd love to," Rose said. "What time and where?" "Here, about
on-ish. And bring the glrls."
"Let me check with Jack. Fll call you fight back."
She hung up the phone and returned W the rlfining room.
"That was Barbara Stevens. She and Cad want us to come to their
place for a game d bridge this afternoon. With the girls," she
added as Jack looked doubtful.
"I don't know. You know 'how Sarah can be in a strange place."
"Then we'll leave them home with Mrs. Goodrich," Rose said
promptly. Jack saw that there was going to be a bridge game and
decided to go along with it gracefully, even though he hated the
game.
"Why don't we play here instead?" he suggested. "Unless there's
some reason why the Stcvenses want us at their place?"
"Fine," Rose said, swiling. "Barbara said one. Is that all fight
with you?"
Jack glanced at his watch auWmatically. "I can't see any reason
why not," he said.
Rose grinned at him. "Except that you hate the game, right?"
Without giving him time to answer, she continued, "Well, at least
it will give us something new

SUFFER THECHILDREN 257

to think about. After this week, you might even find you enjoy
it."
The same thought had occurred to him, and he smiled at Rose, then
watched her leave the room. He listened to her talking to Barbara
Stevens, but didn't really hear what she was saying. He was,
instead, trying to decide why it was that ever since the
afternoon with Sylvia, which had been wonderful, he had been'
feeling bette about his marriage. He supposed that it was simply
that he was feeling 'better about himself..He found th.at he was
actually looking 'forward to the bridge game. It was nice to be
looking forward to something.

"One club." "Pass." "One spade." "Pass."
"One no-trump,"
The bid was passed out, and Barbara. Steveas looked at her
partner.
"Does your husband make you play one bids?' she asked.
"Only if he thinks he can set me," Rose replied. Barbara looked
first at Jack, then at Carl.
"Well, boys, what about it? Do I have to play this one?"
Jack examined his hand carefully, then closed it and threw it in.
"Not when fourth best is a four-from a seven," he sa.'d. "You
underbid. Score yom'seif forty, and we'll cciunt ourselves
lucky."
Cad Stevens dealt the next hand, and as he began sorting it he
glanced up at the ceiling.
"Mighty quiet up there," he observed. "I didn't know three
children could be that quiet. Knock on woo&" He finished sorting
his cards, and tried to keep his glee from showing.
"Two noLtrump,'' he announced, and was pleased to hear a groan
from the women.


258 Jom SAUL

Upstairs, the three children sat on the floor of the playroom,
finishing a game of Monopoly that Sarah had won, primarily
because both Jeff and FJizabeth, taking turns playing on her
behalf, had made good deals for her. For her part, Sarah was
sitting quietly, staring at the Monopoly board and occasionally
picking up one of the pieces to examine it carefully before
putting it down 'On the exact spot from which she had picked it
up.
"She's iust lucky, that's all," Jeff commented as he shoved the
last of his money over to Sarah. Sarah, as if sensing somehow
that the game was over, suddenly swept the board clean. Elizabeth
began picking up the scattered money and sorting it out again.
She'smiled at Jeff.
' "She does this all the time," Elizabeth said. "Whenever I play
a game with her, she always wins. Then she dumps it." Elizabeth
did not add that the only active part Sarah ever took in any of
the games was in the dumping. She was sure Jeff understood that
without being told. "Have you ever seen a Ouija board?" she asked
him.
"You mean one of those things that's supposed to tell your
fortune?"'
"They don't really tell your fortune. You're supposed to be able
to talk to spirits with them,"
"I don't believe in spirits," Jeff said. Then: "Do you have one?"
Elizabeth nodded. "I found it up in the attic. Sarah
 and I play with it all the time. Want to try it?"_ "Sure," Jeff
said. "Why not?"
Elizabeth finished packing the Monopoly set in its box, then
pulled out the Ouija board. She set it on the floor between Jeff
and herself, then called to Sarah, who drifted back from the
window she had been looking vacantly out of. S'denfly Sarah sat
down on the floor and rested her fingers on the indicator.

 259

"What do we do?" Jeff asked.
"It's easy," Elizabeth said. "Just put your fingers on that
thing, the same way as Sarah, and then ask a
question. Pretty soon it starts moving." "All by itself?" Jeff
said skeptically. "Sure. Come on. Let's try it."
She put her fingers on the indicator, and after a moment, and
feeling a bit silly, Jeff did likewise.
"Is anybody' there?" Elizabeth intoned. For nearly a minute,
nothing happened. Jeff :was about to give it up as stupid when he
thoughthe felt a vibration under his fingers. Then the indicator
moved. It slid across tho board and stopped at the "B."
"Did you do that?" he said to Elizabeth.
She shook her head. "Shh. You shouldn't talE" Jeff's lips
tightened, and he felt the indicator try to move again. He
pressed down, trying to immob'fiize it. He could feel it
straining under his fingertips and glanced surreptitiously at
Elizabeth to see if she was trying to move it. She looked
relaxed. Under his fingertips, which were growing-white from the
pressure he was applying, the indicator started to move.
"You can't stop it," Elizabeth whispered. "I tried that too. I
thought Sarah was moving it. But I couldn't make it stop."
Jeff watched, fascinated, as the indicator moved across the board
to stop at the "E." He tried once more to hotd it immobile, but
it moved relentlessly onward, coming to rest at the "T."
"Bet," Jeff said. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It hasn't
stopped yet," Elizabeth said. "But I know where it's going." The
indicator swung slowly over the other way now, and stopped at
"H." A sensation came over Jeff, and he knew that the indicator
wouldn't move again.
"Beth," he said. "That's your name. Short for Eliza-

?


260 rom SAUL

"I know," Elizabeth said. "But it isn't me. It's a sp'wit, and
the spifit's nanno is Beth. She must want to tell me something."
"Why not me?" left said, grinning. "I'm here too, you knoW."
Elizabeth shook her head seriously. "No, it's me she wants to
talk to. I've talked to her before."
"Sure you have," Jeff mocked. "I suppose' she was your
great-great-grandmother, or something like that?"
Now Elizabeth looked at him nervously, and seemed to be less sure
of herseft. "Why did you. say that?" she asked uncertainly.
"What?" Jeff countered.
"What do you mean, my great-great-grandmother?" Jeff seemed to be
baffled. "I didn't mean .anything. Isn't it always a
great-great-grandmother that people talk to?"
"Have you heard anything about my great-greatgrandmother?"
"Why should I have?" Jeff challenged.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I just thought you might have
heard about the legend."
"What legend? Don't tell me Beth was your greatgreat-grandmother.
Beeauso if you do, you're crazier than your sister."
"Don't talk that way about Sarah," Elizabeth snapped. "It's not
nice." She turned to Sarah. "Don't listen to him, Sarah. He
doesn't know anything."
Jeff looked embarrassed and tried to mumble an apology. Then he
asked Elizabeth to tell him about the legend.
"There's supposed to be a cave on the Point somevhere," she
began. "My great-great-grandmother, or maybe it's three greats,
had a dream about it. It was an awful dream, and the cave is
supposed to be an awful place. My father told me that my
great-great-grandmother said it was the gates of hell Anyway, she
had a


 261

dream about it, and then terrible things started happening."
"What sort of terrible things?" Jeff asked eagerly. "Did people
get killed?"
"I guess so," Elizabeth said. "I think Beth was one of them."
"Who was she?"
"I'm not certain," EHzabeth said. Her voice had softened to a
whisper, and a strange blank look had come into her eyes. "She
was only a lit fie girl when she died. A little younger than
Sarah. I keep asking her what happened to her, but she won't tell
me. But it had something to do with the woods, and the cave.
nat's why we're not supposed to go there."
"Is that all?" Ieff seemed disappointed, as if he had been
expecting much more than what Elizabeth had told him.
"Well, there was my great-Feat-uncle. He killed himself."
"How do you know?"
"I just know. He came home one day, and he was carrying
something. I think it was a dead cat, or something like that.
Maybe it was a rabbit. Anyway, you
know that study in the back of the house?" "The one with the
picture of you in it?"
Elizabeth nodded. "But it isn't a picture of me. Anyway, they say
my grreat-great-unele took the cat or the rabbit or whatever it
was into the study. Then he went
out to the back of the house and jumped off the cliff." Jeff's
eyes widened. "Really? Into the ocean?"
"Of course into the ocean," Elizabeth said. "There isn't anything
else down there, except for the reeks."
"Gosh," Jeff breathed. "Did anything else'happen?" "There was one
other person, my great-grandfather. They don't really know what
happened to him, but he went to look for the cave one day, and he
never came back."


262 JOHS SAUL

"Did they ever find him?"
"Yes. But he was dead. He got his foot caught in the rocks, and
when the tide came in he drowned."
"I don't believe any of it," Jeff said, hoping there was more.
"I don't care if you believe it or not," Elizabeth said. "It
happened."
"Who told you?"
"My father. And his father told him. Or his mother. Anyway, it's
true."
"Have you ever seen the cave?" Jeff demanded.
"No," Elizabeth said uncertainly. "But nobody else has ever seen
it either."
"Then how do you know it's rea?" '"I just know." "How?"
''"I just do."
"Well, if you can't tell me how you know, then you don't know,"
Jeff said tauntingly.
"I do know," Elizabeth insisted. "Beth told me," she blurted
out..
left rolled Ms eyes. "Sure she did. Except that you don't even
know who she is."
"I do too," Elizabeth said shakily. "She -she's the gift in the
picture downstairs. The one who looks like
Jeff looked at her with scorn. "Sure she is," he sneered.
"-he' " Elizabeth insisted. "She talks to me through the Ouija
board, and she told me so."
Jeff lounged back, propping himserf up on one elbow, and grinned
at Elizabeth. Neither of them noticed that Sarah had moved out of
the circle and was back at the window, staring out and shifting
her weight nervously from one foot to the other.
'"I'll tell you what," Jeff said. "If you can tell me where that
cave is, then I'll believe the rest of it."

 263

Elizabeth looked at him petulantly and tried m figure out how to
convince him.
"Well," she said nervously. "There's a place . . ." Sarah tamed
from the window and stared va,cntly · across the room at
Elizabeth. Neither Elizabeth nor Jeff seemed aware that she was
there.
"What kind of place?" Jeff said, disbelief filling his voice.
"A -a secret place," Elizabeth said.
Sarah began screaming. The first high-pitched wail tore out of
her throat as she charged across the room. Her face contorted,
she grabbed the Ouija board and flung it at the window. It
shatter the glass, then clattered down onto the roof of the
porch.
Jeff leaped to his feet and stared at Sarah, who was running
wildly around the room, as if she was looking for something.
Suddenly she bolted for the door, flung it open, and disappeared
into the hall. Jeff, his face pale, looked helplessly at
Elizabeth, but Elizabeth was unruffled. She went to the window,
opened it, and picked the Ouija board from among the splinter of
glass in which it lay, brushing her finger against one of the
fragments accidentally as she did. Carefully she sucked at the
wound after making sure it didn't have any glass in it. When she
was finished she tamed back to Jeff and smiled. "It's all right,"
she said. "It happens all the time. 'Don't worry, she'll be all
right."

As Sarah's first scream resounded through the house, Barbara
Stevens dropped her cards, and her hands flew to her mouth.
"My God," she said. "Something's happened to the children." She
was halfway out of her chair before Rose could stop her.
"It's Sarah," Rose said. "It's all right. It happens every now
and then, and I. know it's awful, but please, iust sit still."
Barbara sank uncertainly back into her chair, her


264 rons SAUL

face pale, and Carl Stevens sat as if rooted to his seat as the
screams built in intensity. And then they heard the pounding of
feet coming down the stain.
The door of the living room flew open, and the room was
immediately vibrating with the agonized screams of the hysterical
child. Sarah looked around wildly, her eyes seeming to be
searching for something but seeing nothing, and then she was
across the room, charging toward the French doors, her arms
outstretched.
She hit the doors full force, and her hands struck the wood
frames of the panes rather than the glass itself. The doors
buckled under the strain and flew open, banging back against the
walls, shattering the panes. Sarah was already across the porch.
"Jack;" Rose cried out. "Stop her! H_urryl"
Jack was already on his feet, and as the Steverises looked on in
horror, he bolted across the room and through the doors. They
heard Sarah's screams begin to fade as she raced into the field,
and watched in fascination as Jack chased her. In her hysteria
Sarah moved unnaturally fast, and the three people in the living
room saw that she was almost outrunning her father. She was
heading toward the woods.
In the sudden silence of the house, Rose moved' to the French
doors to watch the pursuit. Upstairs, directly above her,
Elizabeth and Jeff also watched the activity in the field, which,
in the grayhess of the day and the slight drizzle, seemed to be
some maxtic form of tag. No one spoke, and time almost seemed to
stop as Jack Conger tried to catch up with his fleeing daughter.

Jack felt the ,rain in his face as he leaped the five steps from
the porch and dashed into the field. He could 'see Sarah ahead of
him, her small legs pumping as she charged headlong for the
forest. He had thought he would have no trouble catching her, but
. she maintained the distance between them Dr. Belter's words
came back to him and he realized that her body was

 265

working on adrenalin, not strength. He wondered how long she
could hold her pace.
She began slowing perceptibly when she was a little more, than
halfway across the field. She ran straight as an arrow, as if she
had a spot licked out and was head. ing for it. As he chased her
Jack felt his feet slip on the wet grass, and twice he stumbled.
Sarah did not, and each time Jack lost his footing she widened
the gap again.
And then, finally, she began to falter, and Jack could feel that
the race was almost over. He would catch up to her at the
forest's edge, or slightly inside it.
Inside it. The thought chilled him for some reason, and then he
felt an odd sensation. His system had now taken over for him, and
he felt the tingling of adrenalin as it coursed suddenly through
his body. He saw the woods loom up in front of him as he lunged
after Sarah.
His arms closed around her legs, and he felt her fall more than
he saw it. And then she was wriggling in his arms, trying to get
free of him, and her screaming mounted. The two of them struggled
there in the mud, and Sarah's thrashing became stronger, as if
for some reason her fears had multiplied. He almost lost his grip
on her, and then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
Her screams stopped, and she lay in the mud, her small chest
heaving with the exertion, her throat choking on tight little
sobs. Jack picked her up gently and turned toward the house.
He started across the field, his mind a blank. Then it began to
come back to him. This was like another day, a day a year ago
when he had carried Sarah across this field, and it had been
raining, and she had been crying. That day her dress had been
torn, and she had been bleeding. Reluctantly he looked down at
the limp child in his arms.
Her face had gotten scratched in the struggle, and there was a
thin line of blood on her left cheek. Her


266 

denim overalls were muddy, and the bib had been ripped open and
flapped beneath her. Jack felt panic building in him.
He looked toward the house, and through his blurred eyes he saw
them waiting for him, waiting for him to bring his child home,
waiting for him to tell them what he had-done. What had he done?
He didn't know what he'd done. He was bringing his child home.
But they were waiting for him. Why were they waiting for him?
He no longer felt the rain on his face, or the spongy softness of
the wet field under his feet. It was as ff he was walking through
a tunnel, and he didn't know what lay at the other end, nor did
he know what lay at the end he was coming from. He felt himserf
getting dizzy, and he forced his eyes 'from the group that waited
for him at the French doors. He forced himself to look up.
He saw Elizabeth. She stood at a window on the second floor, and
she was watching him. She was smiling at him. It was a gentle
smile, and it comforted him.
Jack felt the panic begin to recede, and he concenIrated on
watching Elizabeth -on watching Elizabeth as she watched him,
beckoned him onward, _omehow comforting him as he carried Sarah
through the rain.
Elizabeth disappeared from his view as he stepped onto the porch.
The panic came upon him once more.
He carried Sarah into the living room and laid her gently on the
sofa. Then he gave in to the panic and the hysteria and began to
sob. He backed away from Sarah, as if he never should have
carried her into the house at all, and watched, strangely
detached, as Rose and the Stevenses gathered around her, ducking
over her and fussing. No one saw him leave the room. They were
busy with Sarah. He found his way up the stairs' and into the
bedroom he shared with Rose. He lay down on the bed and began to
cry. He was remembering. He hated it.

 267

Downstairs, the three adults in the living room staredhelplessly
at the sobbing child on the sofa. All they could do, they knew,
was wait till it passed. But the sobs were heart-reading, and it
almost sounded as though Sarah was trying to say something.
They strained their ears and tried to make words out of the
strange sounds that were being wrenched out of Sarah, as if by
some u.nseen force.
"Secret," she seemed to be saying. "Secret . . . secret..."
But they couldn't be sure.


21

Barbara Stevens felt totally helpless as she watched Rose try to
comfort Sara. The' child lay trembling on the couch, and her
vacant eyes darted wildly around-the room, as if searching for a
way out. If there were any coherent thoughts going through her
mind, it was impossible to interpret what they might be.
"It's all right,, baby," Rose crooned over and over. "It's all
going to be all right now. It's over, and Mother's here." She was
trying to cradle the child's head in her arms, but Sarah kept
jerking spasmodiC, ally. It was all Rose could do to keep her on
the sofa. '
The Stevenses' eyes met over the er0uehing Rose, 'and a look of
pity passed between them. Then they heard a noise at the
living-room door and saw Elizabeth and Jeff standing there. Carl
started to wave them back upstairs, but Rose had seen them too.
"It's all right," she said. "She's quieting."* She turned her
attention to the two children, who were now inside the living
room, standing quietly, though Jeff was fidgeting.
"What happened up there?" Rose said quietly. She Ilianeed at beth
children, but her gaze settled on F. lizabeth. "What set her
off?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "We were playing with the Ouija
beard, and then I started telling Jell
 about the old family legend." "Was Sarah listening?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth said again. "I wasn't really


270 

paying much attention to her: Jeff and I were arguing."
"Arguing?" Barbara Stevens asked. "What aboutT'
"She was telling me a story," Jeff said. "It was really crazy,
and she got mad when I told her I didn't believe

"But it's true," Elizabeth insisted.
"About the cave?" Barbara asked. Her son looked at her in
surprise.
"You mean you've heard about it too?"
"Yes, I have. But whether it's true or not, you shouldn't have
argued with Elizabeth about it."
"But " Jeff began, but his father cut him off.
"No buts," he said. "YOU know better than to argue about
something you don't know anything about. Apologize to Elizabeth."
For a moment it looked as if left was about to argue some more,
but then he turned to Elizabeth. "I'm sorry I argued with you,"
he said, then couldn't resist adding, "but I still don't think
there's a cave."
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but Rose spoke first. "It doesn't
matter right now whether there's a cave or not. What matters is
what got Sarah so upset. What happened?"
Elizabeth picked up the story. "I was telling Jeff about the
legend, and I got to the part about the cave. And we started
arguing about whether or not it was real, and 'then all of a
sudden Sarah started screaming.
There's a broken window in the playroom." "A broken window?"
"She threw the 0ulja board through it," Jeff explained."
"What in the world were you doing with the Ouija board?" Carl
Stevens wanted to know.
Jeff sfarted to speak, but this time it was Elizabeth who got
there first.
"We were just playing with it. It spelled out 'Beth.'"
"That's your name," Barbara Stevens said with a smile.

 271

"Yes," Elizabeth said, shrugging. She flashed a quick glance at
Jeff, and he caught her meaning immediately. Don't let the
grown-ups know too much about it. Its our secret. He smiled at
her.
"But what set Sarah off?" Rose said doggedly, castlug about
desperately for a rational reason for her daughter's outburst.
Please, she begged, directing a prayer heavenward. Let me
understand. Just once.
Jeff and F._li7abeth looked at each other and shrugged. Rose was
about to begin cross-examining them, but changed her mind when
she saw her husband making his way slowly down the stairs. He
didn't come into the living room, though. Instead, he started
across the hall toward the back study. The back study and the ba,
Rose thought.
"Well," she said, "I guess that'more or less takes cam of our
bridge game, doesn't it. I don't think I could concentrate on the
cards any more." She produced one of those bright and cheery
smiles that tea the rdpient it's time to leave. The Steveuses got
the message.
Carl glanced at his watch nervously. "Its time for us to bs
getting home anyway," he said. 'Tin sorry this had to happen. If
there's anything we can-do...'' He trailed off helplessly,
knowing there wasn't.
"We'll do it again," Barbara said quickly, coming to his rescue.
"Soon. Call us, okay7"
Rose smiled at them, and Elizabeth escorted them to the door,
holding the door open while they got into their coats. Outside
the rain still fell quietly from the gray skies.
"Not too pleasant," Carl said.
"No," lili7beth agreed. "But we get used to it." As they left,
neither 'Carl nor Barbara was sure whether Elizabeth had been
referring to the weather or to her sister's outburst.
Nexther of them spoke until they had turned onto the Point Road.
"It must he hard," Barbara said finally.


272 ,

"What?"
"Having a daughter like Sarah. I feel so sorry for them both."
Carl nodded his agreement. "I'm not sure I could cope with it at
all, let alone as well as they do. Elizabeth is remarkable too,"
he added. "They're lucky to have he. In a way, I suppose, it
balances things out."
"She's crazy," Jeff commented from the back seat. Carl reproved
his son for talking that way. It never occurred to him that Jeff
might be talking about Elizabeth, not. Sarah. And it didn't occur
to Jeff that his parents had misunderstood him.

Elizabeth watched the Stevenses drive away through the rain, then
quietly dosed the door and went back to the living room. She
Watched her mother try to corn. fort Sarah for 'a moment, then
walked over and knelt beside her.
"I'll do it," she said. "I 6an calm her down." Rose stood up in
relief. She never knew what to do in these situations, and she
always wound up feeling helpless and frustrated feelings which
she was sure were somehow transmitted to Sarah. Gratefully she
let Elizabeth take over, and when she saw that Sarah was 'indeed
getting through her seizure, or whatever it was, she started
grimly for the study in the rear of the house. There, at least,
she would be dealing with the familiar, and her husband, at
least, would understand what she said. Until he got too drunk. An
image of Martin Forager flashed into her mind, and then Forager's
features suddenly faded and were replaced by Jack's. She shook
off the image and' went into the 'Study without knocking Jack was
sitting in the wing chair, a stiff drink in his llands, his eyes
fixed on the portrait of the young girl hanging above the cold
fireplace.
"I cotdid have Mrs..Goodrich build a fire," Rose volunteered
cautiously.
"It wouldn't make any difference," Jack said-dully.

 273

"I'd still be cold." His eyes didn't move from the portrait.
"Are you all fight?" Rose asked.
"I suppose so. Fm sorry I fell apart like that. I had a bad time
out there."
"I noticed," Rose said, a trace of acid edging her voice.
Jack held up a hand. "Don't start, Rose, not now. rm still on the
edge, and I don't want to talk about it yeL"
"You're going to have to, sooner or later." "I know. But let's
make it later, shall we?"
Rose sat down in the other chair by the fireplace, then felt the
hill of the room. She decided to ask for a fire anyway, and went
to find Mrs. Goodrich, When she returned Jack hadn't moved, but
his drink was. fulle'r than it had been when she left2 She knew
he'd finished the first and fiHed his 'glass, but he didn't seem
to have changed his-position atI all. His eyes were st'ill fixed
glassily on the portrait, as'ff it held some son of magnetic
force over him. Rose, too; gazed at it,' and tried to see
whatever it was that Jack was seeing.
A few minutes ltter Mrs. Goodrich came in to build th fire. She
said nothing, nor was she spoken to. When she left the room her
employers still sat silently, gazing at the picture, Only now, a
fire blazed cheerfully at their feet. Mrs. Goodrich, returning to
her small room by the kitchen, felt vaguely worried. She picked
up her TF Guide and setfled herseft into her chair.

Elizabeth flipped out the front door and made her way through the
dri77l to the barn. When she was inside she walked qtCckiy to the
old tack room and pulled the door shut behind her She took off
her raincoat and hung if on a peg. Then she began to unbutton her
dress. When all the buttons were open, she slipped it off and
folded it neatly: She set it On an empty shelf and covered it
with an ancient horse blanket. Then she rummaged


274 OHN SAUL

around in the pile of old hay in one corner of the tack room and
pulled out a small bundle of wadded material. She shook it out.
It was the old dress she had found in the attic, torn and stained
now, but still in one piece. She put it on carefully, then began
loosening her ponytail. When the blond hair was fiewing freely
over her shoulders, she glanced around the tack room, then opened
the door once more. In a me= ment she was out of the barn and
walking slowly across the field toward the wood. The rain began
to fall harder now, and by the time she was twenty yards from the
house her dress was sodden, her hair stream= ing. She didn't feel
it. She moved slowly but deliberately through the-storm.
She reached the edge of the woods, mind didn't pause to enjoy the
protection the trees gave her from the downpour. Her. hair was
plastered shroudlike over her shoulders now, its wet sleelmess
accenting the features of her face. Her pace quickened, and she
moved through the woods with a sure-footedness that would have
seemed impossible to an observer, had there been olle.
Lightning was bennng to play across the horizon when she emerged
from the woods, and a roll of thunder greeted her as she stepped'
out onto the crest Of the embnhnent. It was dark, very dark,
though the sun had not yet set. The storm seamed to blot it out
most completely, and the sea, barely vim'bIe through the rain,
had the menacing look of an Amal in the night. Babeth, slowed by
neither the rain nor the darkness, began gliding down the face-of
the embankment. As the storm intensified she disappeared behind
the boulder that guarded the entrance to the tunnel,
She found the flashlight in its niche nextto the tunnel entrance,
but didn't turn it on until she had reached the upper chamber. By
-now the stench from the dead cat, mixed with the sour smells
from the children's

 275
Vomiting, had fouled the air throughout the Cavern, but Elizabeth
didn't seem to notice it.
She crept to the top of the shaft, clicked the light on, and
peered down. She could see nothing except the large flat
table=rock, but she could hear soft moaning drifting upward. She
knew Kathy and Jimmy were still down there, cowering somewhere in
the darkness. She smiled to herself and began to lower the rope
ladder into the pit.
She tested it briefly, then began to climb down, the still-lit
flashlight casting eerie shadows as it glowed in the pocket of
her peculiar, old=fashioned dress. She felt her foot hit the
floor of the cave and stepped away from the ladder. She drew the
flashlight from her pocket and shined it around the cavern.
Kathy Burton and Jimmy Tyler sat huddled together against the
wall of the cavern opposite the place where the skeleton lay.
Kathy's eyes were tightly shut against the. sudden brightness of
the light, but. Jimmy Tyler held one hand out, shielding himself
from the .wOrst of' the glare. He was. squinting, trying to see
past the source of the light. Kathy was whimpering soffiy to
herself, and except for the hand clasped over her face was
apparently unaware of what was going on. Jimmy didn't try to get
up, but his eyes moved alertly in the light. Elizabeth shifted
the beam to the old skeleton, and a sound crept from her lips as
she saw that it was in disarray, the bones scattered a couple of
feet in every direction.
Elizabeth reached into her pocket and brought out some candles
she had found in the tack room and a small cigarette lighter she
had taken from the house. She wedged the candles into cracks in
the walls and lit them, placing the lighter carefully into a
crevice just below the candles. Then she snapped the flashlight
off, and it disappeared back into the large pocket of her dress.
The times of the candles flickered, then


276 Jom SAUL

grew steady, and a warm light suddenly bathed the interior of the
cavern.
Ignoring the two children huddled together, Elizabeth began
tending to the old bones opposite them. Tenderly she moved each
bone back into its proper position, and in a few minutes the
skeleton was complete again, its arms folded once more over its
empty rib cage. Only then did Elizabeth turn her attention back
to Kathy Burton and Jimmy. Tyler.
"It's time to have another party,"-she whispered. Kathy didn't
seem to hear her, but Jimmy shrank closer to the girl next to
him, his mind filling with fear. He knew this was 'Elizabeth, but
she was not the Elizabeth he had known all his life. It was
another Elizabeth, a terrifying Elizabeth.
She was covered with mud, and her hair, muddy now, as well as
wet, clung to her face and shoulders. The tom dress, soaking
wet,and slimy with the muck of the cavern, clung to her body in
lumpy folds, and them was an emptiness in her face that reminded
Jimmy of his grandmother, when he had seen her at her funeral two
months ago. She looks dead, Jimmy thought. Elizabeth looks dead.
He tried tO burrow in closer to Kathy Burton._
. As he watched in horrified fascination, Elizabeth found the
remains of the dead cat, its doll's clothes now covered with the
cave slime, and propped it up carefully on one of the rocks that
sat like stools around the table-rock. She discovered the head of
the cat, 'now eyeless, but still wearing its grotesque bonnet,
and tried to balance it on top of the torso. When she couldn't
make it stay, she grasped the head firmly and ground it into the
torso like an orange onto a juicer. The rotting flesh of the
torso gave way, and the end of the spine protruded upward into
the foramen magnum. The head held, squatting deeply between the
cat's shoulders.
"Come to the table," Eli7.abeth said softly, beckon-

 277

ing Jimmy Tyler to leave the security of the cavern wall and join
the cat at the strange table. He shook his head.
"Come to the table," Elizabeth repeated, her voice becoming
menacing. Jimmy Tyler pulled his knees. up to his chest, and
tightened his grip on Kathy Burton's hand.
Elizabeth moved toward him, and her hand drew back to strike him.
Just before the blow was delivered, Jimmy scuttled away from
Kathy and crouched, shiver-
rag, on one of the small rocks. El'izabeth turned to Kathy.
"You too," she ordered. Kathy didn't move, but her eyes flickered
open a little, and her mouth worked as if she was trying to
speak.
"Now," Elizabeth demanded. This time the blow fell, and Jimmy
Tyler cringed at the sound of the sharp slap against Kathy's
face. Still Kathy didn't move. Instead, a small 'gurgling sound
escaped her lips.
Elizabeth glared down at the inert child for a moment,. then
began dragging her toward the center o.f the cavern by her
feet.-Weakly Kathy Burton tried to kick loose, but Elizabeth'S
grasp was ftrm. In seconds Elizabeth was setting Kathy on the
third stool. When she stepped away Kathy slumped back to the
floor, and Elizabeth kicked her.
"Sit up when you're at the table," she snapped. Kathy seemed to
become slightly conscious of what was go'mg on, and managed to
pull herself upright "That's nice," Elizabeth said. She stepped
back and looked over the strange tableau.
"Now," she said. "Kathy, you're the mother. And Jimmy's the
father. And Cecil is your baby. Your crazy baby. Feed your baby,
Mother."
Kathy sat quietly, barely able to keep herself upright
"I said to feed your baby!" Elizabeth demanded. When Kathy still
made no move toward the cat, Elizabeth raised her fist and
brought it down hard on


280 

Jimmy Tyler's helpless sobbing mixed with Elrzabeth'S
ramblings, filled the cave. He didn't understand what
was happening to him.
Kathy Burton, the strange sounds penetrating her
fogged mind, looked up and watched the vile scene
that was transpiring in front of her. She couldn't grasp
it at first, couldn't sort it all out into anything that
made sense. Then her mind cleared a little more and
she realized what was happening. She looked on in
horror as Elizabeth continued in her efforts to force
Jimmy Tyler to copulate with the corpse.
Kathy Burton screamed, and with the last of her
reserves of strength she pulled herself to her feet and
_ moved, toward the spot where Elizabeth struggled with
 Jimmy Tyler.,
"Don't," she croaked. "Please, Elizabeth, don't." Elizabeth
wheeled, and Kathy wished she hadn't tried to interfere. She
began backing away, the light in Elizabeth's eyes driving her
backward until she reached the wall of the cavern. Her terror
grew as she saw Elizabeth pick up _a rock from the floor of the
cavern. She felt the strength suddenly ehbing from her body when
Elizabeth raised the stone over her head, and she' began
collapsing to the cavern floor as Elizabeth brought the rock
downward.
For Kathy Burton, the horror was over.

An hour later Rose Conger found her older daughter merging from
the shower.
"I was just going to tell you that if you wanted a shower before
dinner, you should get started. I see I'm too late."
Elizabeth nodded and smiled at her mother. Rose smiled back, and
silently thanked God for sending her Elizabeth. Without
Elizabeth, she didn't know how she would manage.
"Will you bring Sarah down with you?" she said. "Sure," Elizabeth
replied. "As soon as I get dressed."


 281

In the cave, Jimmy Tyler lay where Elizabeth had left him, too
weak and too confused even to try to find his clothes. He lay
shivering, naked in the darkness.


22

Rose lay sftffiy in bed later that night, listening to the rain
pound on the roof, her thoughts as turbulent as the weather
outside. She could hear nothing from Jack's inert form beside
her, but she sensed that he wasn't asleep.
"There's something about that portrait, isn't. there?" she said
finally. Jack snapped on the lamp by his side
of the bed and raised himserf up on one elbow. "Do you feel it
too?" he asked.
"No," Rose said flatly. "I don't. But all evening long you sat
and' stared at it. What is it about it? It's as if you're trying
to see something in it."
Jack lay back down again and stared at the ceiling. "I'm not
sure," he said. "It just seems like -like the portrait should
look more like Sarah than like Elizabeth."
"Sarah? Why Sarah?"
"Nothing I can put my finger on. Just a feeling. I keep thinking
about what Dr. Belter told us. About the little girl who was
supposed to have been killed. I keep getting the feeling that the
picture must be of that

"What does that have to do with Sarah?" Rose's voice was sharper
now, as if she was guarding herself -against what was to come.-
' "I remembered today. I remembered it all. Rose, th.a.t day a
year ago. I almost killed Sarah."
'..,'_But you didn't."


284 

"NO, I didn't," Jack said miserably. "I wanted something else."
"Something else?"
"I wanted to rape her," lack said quietly. He waited for a
response from Rose, and when there was none he went on. "I don't
have the vaguest idea of what it was all about, but today, when I
was bringing Sarah back in from the rain, I looked up and saw
Elizabeth watching me. And then, suddenly, I remembered it all. I
remembered being in the woods, and watching Sarah crawl under a
bush. And suddenly I wanted her. Sexually. Don't ask me to
explain why I don't know. 'It was the most awful thing I've ever
felt in my life. I felt like I was someone else, but I was still
myself. It was like I was being made to do something, or want to
do something, that I didn't want to do. And then anawful feeling
came over me that... that Sarah was seducing me."
Rose sat up. "Seducing you?" she demanded. "Seducing you7 My God,
Jack, she was only ten years old!"
"I didn't say she was sedue'mg me. I said I felt like she was.
And so I started beating her. I really wanted to kill her. Oh,
Jesus, Rose, it was awful." The pain of memory swept over _him_
once more, and he began crying softly. Rose, failing to
understand what had happened to him, her own feelings in turmoil,
searched for something to say.
"What's all th'Ls got to do with the portrait downstairs?" she
asked finally.
"I'm not sure," Jack muttered. "When I look at that portrait I
get the strange feeling that what happened to Sarah a year ago,
happened to, that girl a long time ago."
"And that, I suppose, takes you off the hook, doesn't it?" Rose
said icily. "Suddenly, instead of being th aggressor you're the
victim? My God, Jack."
Jack cringed at her words, but Rose plunged on. "And what about
today? Were you a victim again


22

Rose lay stiffly in bed later that night, listening to the rain
pound on the roof, her thoughts as turbulent aS the weather
outside. She could hear nothing from Jack's. inert form beside
her, but she sensed that he wasn't asleep.
"Therc's something about that portrait, isn't. there?" she said
finally. Jack snapped on the lamp by his side
of the bed and raised bim.elI up on one elbow. "Do you feel it
too?" hc asked.
"No," Rose said flatly. "I don't. But all evening long you sat
and stared at iL What is it about it? It's as if you're trying to
see something in it."
Jack lay back down again and stared at the ceiling. "I'm not
sure," he said. "It just seems like-like the portrait should look
more like Sarah than like Elizabeth."
"Sarah? Why Sarah?"
"Nothing I can put my finger on. Just a feeling. I keep thinking
about what Dr. Belter told us. About the little girl who was
supposed to have been killed. I keep getting the feeling that the
picture must be of that

"What does that have to do with Sarah?" Rose's
voice was sharper now, as if she was guarding herself !against
what was to come.-
"I remembered. today. I remembered it all. Rose, litat day a year
ago. I almost killed Sarah."
"::TBut you didn't."


 285

today? Did some strange force come over you again
today? Were you not youneff again today?" "What are you talking
about?"
"I .saw it today, Jack. I saw it all. And I was ashamed that Carl
and Barbara Stevens saw it too."
Jack sat up and stared at ins wife. "I don't know what you're
talking about," he said.
"I'm talking about you out there in the field with Sarah. I'm not
sure winch was worse, watching her charging across the field,
screaming, or watching you rescue her. You were vicious, Jack. It
wasn't like you were help:rag her. It looked like you were
attacking her! It was like it was all happening all over again."
Jack sat up, his eyes blazing. "Are you out of your mind? Today
was nothing like a year ago. Nothing at all. For one thing, I was
stone sober today."
Rose frowned. "Maybe you don't have to be drunk," she said.
"Maybe something more serious is wrong with yOU."
Something snapped inside Jack, and he grabbed Rose by the
shoulders and pinned her down to the bed.
"We'll see who I can rape," he snarled, and as Rose lay back
liraply, as if he weren't worth fighting against, his rage grew.
He grabbed at her nightdress and tore it from her body. Still she
lay there, taunting him with her passiveness. He hurled hirnse on
her and tried
desperately to mount her. And he couldn't.
Now she began squirming under him, and for a moment he wasn't
sure whether she was trying to free herself or hep him.
"You can't do it, can you?" her mocking voice came from beneath
him, slightly muffled by his chest. ')hly little girls? Well, I'm
not a little girl, Jack. I'm a woman, a real woman. Now get off
me." She pushed up against inm, and once more he tried to thrust
himself insi,e her. Again he failed.
Theft  _struggle began in earnest, and Rose sud-


286 aroFn, SAUL

denly became frightened by what might happen to her. She
redoubled her efforts, and finally succeeded in freeing herself.
She scrambled from the bed and turned to face him. His eyes
blaimg, his- anger still growing, he stared at her, and Rose was
frightcried. She felt she knew what Sarah must have experienced
in the woods that day so long ago. She reached out to pick up an
ashtray from the table by the bed.
"Don't come near me," she screamed. "I swear, Jack, if you so
much as lay a finger on me, I'll "
"You'll what?" JaCk thundered. "You'll kill me? Do you really
think I care?" He was standing now, and the bed separated them.
Both of them were shout'ing, neither hearing the other. And then,
when they both paused for a breath, they heard it. Someone was
tapping at their door. They stared at each other, stricken. The
children.
But it was Mrs. Goodrich's voice-out .in the hall. "Are you all
right?" she was saying. "Land sakes, you're waking up the whole
house."
There was a silence; then Rose spoke. "It's all fight, Mrs.
Goodrich," she called softly. "I'm sorry we disturbed you. We
were just just talking about something."
"Some people like to sleep at night," Mrs. Goodfieh said. They
heard her retreating back toward the staircase, her footsteps
heavy as she plodded down.
"I suppose the children heard it all, too," Rose complained.
"Don't try to blame it on me," Jack said. "You might try
listening to me once in a while, instead of accusing me."
"You're never responsible, are you?" Rose said, mak ing an effort
to keep her voice down. "You'll never take the respon.sibility
for anything, will you?"
"Yes," Jack said. "I will. But not for everythUg, Rose. Not for
everything." He began dressing.
"Where are you going?" Rose demanded;'


SUFFER THE CmLDREN 287

"You don't need to how," Jack said. Then he smiled cruelly. "I'll
take the responsibility for where I'm going. And I'll take the
responsibility for what rm going to do."
He left her standing next to the bed in her 'torn nightgown, and
she hadn't moved when she heard his car roar Off down the
driveway two minutes later. Only when the noise of the car had
faded did she sink back down to the bed. Shakily she reached 'for
a cigarette and lit it. The smoke, sucked deeply into her lungs,
seemed to calm her.
She finished her cigarette and lay down on the bed, turning off
the light. She lay still for a long time, keeping her breathing
even and forcing her tense muscles to relax. She tried to sort
out her thoughts, and when that failed decided to drift with them
and see where they: led.
Thirty minutes later, she was still tryhE to relax her muscles,
and her mind was as chaotic as it had been when she lay down. She
decided to get something to

She padded into the kitchen and turned the light on. She listened
for a minute and heard the rhythmic suoring of Mrs. Goodrich in
the next room. She crept to the refrigerator and opened it.
She thought she heard the click of a door opening as she poked
among the leftovers neatly packaged on the shelves of the
refrigerator, but it wasn't until she felt a draft on her legs
that she turned around. The back door stood open.
A stab d fear ran through her, and she instinctively moved toward
the drawer where the knives were kept. Then she saw who had
opened the back door.
Sarah, her finne nightgown .sunkng wet and covered with mud, her
dark hair glisten'mE with the rain, stood by the inlfe drawer, as
ff trying W decide whether to open it or not.


j' SAXn,

!,'?" Rose breathed/her heart pounding and a trn*ble* fear*rising
in her, "Sarah," she said aga*xn,
-*'- approached the child and knelt down, She reached out to
touch Sarah, very gently, for fear that her daughter was
sleepwalking and not wanting to 'wake her if she was. But at the
touch Sarah turned around and stared at her mother. She blinked a
couple of times, and Rose was sure she was awake.
"Sarah," she said quietly· "What is it? What were you doin$
outside?"
Sarah peered blankly at her mother, and Rose didn't know whether
she had been heard or not. Then a large tear formed in one of
Sarah's eyes and slowly ran down her face, streakin the mud in
its path. It collected on her chin; then, when it was too heavy
to hang on any longerr fell to the floor. Rose red the girl into
her arms. Sarah did not resist.
"Come on," Rose said. "I'll take you upstairs and put you to
bed."
She picked the little girl up and closed both the back door of
the house and the refrigerator door. Snapping off the kitchen
light and crooning to the child who shivered in her arms, she
made her way upstairs to the bathroom. ,She set Sarah. down-and
began rnnniug a tub of hot water. Then she went to get towels.
When she remmed,.Sarah still sat where Rose had left her,
nnrnoving, as iho she we .t;e thinking about something. But her
eyes, lthe.huge, beautiful brown eyes, still Seemed vacantl
,taring at the tub of water. Rose undressed" her andl pI' her tn
the fifo. ·

 When she finished bing S:.' Rose'put her to
·the in/fun/y then nt with her
 "she d, -Barrlb = ''-Fdy 'she left
 Sarah's room, leaving the'li h,' '-wC' 
to bed; lmew' she d* :- id'"u=,-tier- h came honae,-She
wishedh'WerehOanew; or glenst

 289

had told her where he ws going· She sat in the study and waited.
Above her the little girl who looked so much like Elizabeth
smiled down at her. The picture comforted Rose, and made her
waiting easier.

Jack drove fast through the storm, the pounding of his heart
echoed by the beating of the windshield wipers as they fought
vainly to keep the glass clear in front of his eyes. He didn't
need to see, really; he was so familiar with the Point Road that
he felt he could have driven it blindfolded, navigating by the
bumps and chuckholes.
H drove automatically, his mind racing, his thoughts chaotic.
Then he saw the lights of Port Arbello glowing dinfly ahead in
the rain, and he knew where he was going.
He pulled the car into Sylvia Bannister's driveway, and left it
there for anybody who wished to see. The house was dark, but he
didn't consider going elsewhere. Instead, he walked up to the
front door and knocked loudly. When there was no response,-he
knocked again, louder. Finally he saw a light flash on and heard
feet coming toward the door.
"Who is it." -Sylvia's sleepy voice called. "It's me. Jack."
He listened as she unfastened the chain and threw the bolt. Then
the door opened, and she squinted out ath'nn.
"Excuse me," she said, and flipped the switch for the porch
light. "I didn't mean to leave you in the dark."
"It's all right," Jack said, grinning crookedly. Seeing her made
him feel better. "I seem to be'in the dark a lot these days
anyway."
She puled the door open and let him step inside be/fore she
closed it again, and fixed the chain and deadbolt. "I suppose
it's silly," she said. "But they make me feel safer." Then she
looked at him closely, and con-


l.m came into her face. "Are you .sill.right?" she. said. .:;t me
get you a drink. YoU took like you, need one." .,-.,"! do,, Jack
said. "I suppose I shouldn!t but I could really 11se one."
"She's got you convinced, hasn't she?" 'Sylvia said
as she led him to the kitchen. "Convinced?"
"That you're an alcoholic," Sylvia said, pouring them each a
drink.
'"I suppose I am." Jack accepted the glass she handed hill.
"No," Sylvia said definitely. "You're not. Martin Forager is an
alcoholic. You're not. At least not yet. But
if you wanted to you could-become one. Do

sometimes I do __all suffer from tern'bte hanghurt."
as long as you're suffering you're that's what myraother taught
me. Do you or shall I'buHd a fire?"
be fine," Jack said, setfling into one of the at the kitchen
table. "It makes it different from Mrs. Goodrich does not
tolerate any Conger ' in_the kitchen. I think she thinks it's
beneath our dignity. Not that we have any dignity left, after
tonight." He told Sylvia what had happened at home.
"It must have been awhtl," she said whehad
fini.qhed.  ,, _: ..: .
He swirled his  drink and smiledI ,:;;e!1, it
wasn't pleasant.. So I took off, and
"I meant the remembering. :! !nust;havobeen. terrible." .... · :
'. - -: ':· -

memed. NOt kn.ough.
I knowing what

 291

"Nonsense," Sylvia said. "You seem to be forgetting something.
You didn't rape her, and you didn't kill her."
"But I wanted to," Jack said miserably.
"Wanting to do something and doing it are two entirely different
things. ff I had to feel badly about all the things I've wanted
to do, I'd be a mess. Anti-this town wouldn't be in very good
shape, either. I can think of at least three people right off the
bat that I've wanted to kill. I mean really kill. Complete with
fantasies of doing it, and getting away with it. So stop feeFrog
bad." She glanced at his drink, then-held her own glass up. "And
fix us both another. I'm not your secretary now, you know. I'm a
woman, and I want to be waited on."
"You can kick me out if you want to go back to sleep," Jack said.
"But I hope you don't."
"Kick you out? Not much chance of that. You might fire me in the
morning, when you're my boss again. sides, I happen to like you."
"Do you, Sylvia?" Jack said seriously. "Do you really? I guess I
haven't been feeling particularly' likable lately."
"And it hasn't occurred to you that 'that might have something to
do with the way Rose has been treating you? It's hard to feel
good about yourself when some-
one you love is making you feel bad about yourself." "I'm not
sffre I love her," Jack said slowly.
Sylvia glanced at him, and the corners of her mouth flickered
upward. "I suppose I could read a lot into that, if I wanted to,
but I won't. You love her, Jack, even if you don't believe you
do. You're used to her, and a lot of love is nothing more than
habit."
"I thought love had something to do with passion," Jack said,
trying to keep his voice light.
· 'PaSsion? I'm not sure passion has anything to do with it at
all. Look at me, for instance. I've loved you for a long time."
She smiled at his expression of sur-


20 

cern came into her face. "Are you all right?" she said. . "Let me
get you a drink. YoU look like you need one."
'"I do," Jack said. "I suppose I shouldn't but I could really use
one."
"She's got you convinced, hasn't she?" Sylvia said
 as she led h'nn to the kitchen. "Convinced7"
'l'hat you're an al_oholic," Sylvia said, pouring them each a
drink.
"I suppose I am." Jack accepted the glass she handed him.
"No," Sylvia said definitely. "You're not. Martin Forager is an
alcoholic. You're not. At least not yet. But I suppose if you
wanted to you could-become one. Do you?"
"I'm not sure' sometimes. But yes, sometimes I do want to
bccomeo.e. Sometimes I'd!ike to stay drunk all the time. I would,
except I suffer from terrible hangovers. They don't show, but
God, do they hurt."
"Well, I suppose as long as you're suffering you're sae. At
least, that's what my mother taught me. Do you want to sit-here,
or shall I build a fire?"
"This'll be fine," Jack said, settling into one of the 'chairs at
the kitchen table. "It makes it different from home. Mrs.
Goodrich does not tolerate any Conger sitting in_the kitchen. I
think she think. it's beneath our dignity. Not that we have any
dignity left, after tonight." He told Sylvia what had happened at
home..
"It must have been awful," she hid. when(he had finished.
He swirled his ;dri and smiled . "Well, it wasn't pleasant., So I
took off, and h I a."
"I meant the remembering.' It m ust ;, terrible." .....
Jack. :nodded. "It wasinwayJ l;hIh't remembered. Not knowus vhae
rd bad.enough.
x think. knowing what I was

 291

"Nonsense," Sylvia said. "You seem to be forgetting something.
You didn't rape her, and you didn't kill her."
"But I wanted to," Jack said miserably.
"Wanting to do something and doing it are two en- tirely
different things. If I had to feel badly about all the things
I've wanted to do, I'd be a mess. And this town wouldn't be in
very good shape, either. I can think of at least three people
right off the bat that I've wanted to kill. I mean really kill.
Complete with-fantasies of doing it, and getting away with it. So
stop feeling bad." She glanced at his drink, then-held her own
glass up. "And fix us both another. I'm not your secretary now,
you know. I'm a woman, and I want to be waited on."
"You can kick me out if you want to go back to sleep," Jack said.
"But I hope you don't."
"Kick you out? Not much chance of that. You might fire me in the
morning, when you're my boss again. Be,sides, I happen to like
you."
"Do-you, Sylvia?" Jack said seriously. ".Do you really? I guess I
haven't been feeling particularly likable lately."
"And it hasn't occurred to you that that might have something to
do with the way Rose has been treating you? It's hard to feel
good about yourself when some,-
one you love is making you feel bad about yourself." "I'm not
stre I love her," Jack said slowly.
Sylvia glanced at him, and the corners of her mouth flickered
upward. '"I suppose I could read a lot into that, if I wanted to,
but I won't. You love her, Jack, even ff you don't believe you
do. You're used to her, and a lot of love is nothing more than
habit."
'"I thought love had something to do with passion," Jack said,
trying to keep his voice light.
"PaSsion? I'm not sure passion has anything to do with it at all.
Look at me, for instance. I've loved you for a long time." She
smiled at his expression of sur-


22 

prise. "You didn't know? Well, why should you? It wasn't the kind
of love that demands attention. It was the kind of love that's
comforting. I knew it was there, and it helped me. If you didn't
know it was there, or nobody knew it was there, it didn't matter.
It was my love, and I liked it. And it lind nothing to do with
passion."
"And what about the-other afternoon?"
"That as passion," Sylvia said softly. "And I liked
iL But it scares me." "Scares you?"
"Yes. I keep wondering after the passion dies, will-I
still have my love? Or will that fade too? I don't want it to, l
Lwant, tobe able to go on loving you."
-:  eyes met and JaCk -t - out to touch her

' ':And I want you to go on loving me, Sylvia. I want  to vj
much."
Together they walked to Sylvia's bedroom and closed the' door.
Their drinks sat forgotten on the kitchen table, and the ice in
the glasses slowly melted.

Rose heard the car grinding up the driveway and glanced at the
dock. He'd been gone almost three hours. She wondered ff he'd
notice the light under the study door when he came in, or whether
he was too drunk. She heard the front door open, and her
husband's footsteps in the hall. They stopped, then started
she heard him coming toward the study, He'd seen

She waited till the'  doo 'ore she

She looked -at. ,- ,jtiy,;?,,t-he .'..tia, She realized he was-
sober, .... -,, ; ,
"If it becomes necessary,. Sylvia Bsnn can tell

 293

anyone who's interested where Pve been tonighL And what I've been
doing."
"I see," Rose said quietly absorbing what he was telling her. "I
suppose I should have known. Sheds been in love with you for
years. Ididn't know it was mutual."
"I didn't either, until recently," Jack said. "Are we going to
haven fight about it?"
"Do you want one?" Rose countered.
Jack smiled and sat down. "No, I don't. rve had enough of
fighting, Rose, with you, with ,everything. If you really want to
know, I didn't want to come home tonight. Sylvia sent me."
"Sent you?" Rose asked, her brows archhag. "Was she afraid the
neighbors would talk?"
"No. She was worried about you. She likes you, yon know."
"And I like her. But not so much that I'll let her take my
place."
Jack chuckled. "It wasn't very long ago that you were thinking
about leaving me.''
"A woman has pride. If I left you it wouldn't be so' that you
could marry Sylvia Bannister. You'd be SO broke that you wouldn't
be able to marry anyone."
"I see," Jack said, standing up. "Somehow this conversation seems
to have gotten out of hand. I have no intention of asking you for
a divorce, at least not right now. So I think FH go to bed."
"Not yet," Rose said. She realized that it sounded like a
command, and that Jack wouldn't respond to a command. Not
tonight. She softcried her voice. "Please,''' she said.
"Something happened tonight; and I don't know what it means or
what we should do about it."
Jack sank back into the chair he had been occupying. "You mean
after L left?"
Rose nodded. "I couldn't sleep, and after a while I decided to
get something to eat. I went down to the kitchen, and while I was
there Sarah came in."
"So?"


294 OBN SAUL

'I'm sorry. She came in from outside. She was dfipping wet and
covered with mud. Needless to say, I
haven't the slightest idea where she'd been, or why." "What did
you do?"
"What could I do? I took her upstairs, bathed her, and put her to
bed. I waited till- she fell asleep, then came down here. I've
been heine ever since, trying to
figure out what she couldhave been doing." "Did she do anything
in the kitchen?"
"ff you mean, did she make one of her scenes, no. But I had the
strangest feeling. I was burrowing around in the fridge when she
came in, and I didn't hear her. I didn't. realize there was
anyone there till I felt the draft from the open door. When I
realized there was
someone-in therOom, n first .thought was to grab a knife. And
that'S when I saw Sarah. She was standing I-tw lrnife drawer,
and. it seemed like she was try-
ing to make up her mind about something." "About what?"
"I don't know," Rose said uncomfortably. Then: "Oh, yes, I do
know. It seemed to me that she was-trying to choose one of the
knives. I'm probably wrong, but thafs the way it seemed."
Jack considered it, turning everything over in his
mind, but he could come up with no answers. "Is she still in her
room?" he asked.
"Yes. rd have heard her if she'd come don." "Well, I don't see
what we can do tonight, Lefs go to bed, and look in on . Then
I'li'call.. Belter in the morning.: I doubt 'ifs.3nng ugh. She
was probably sleepwal.,' :: --: -
"No;, :.
'lYre :'Sine she::.wake  ,n ,se hew what she was doing,  I'm'very
muc. h.'d d:what ,it

· ....She was thing and Jack knew it, But lsa-.no  to . t talk

bUFFER THE CHILDREN 295

tO her about it. It would be better to let Dr. Belter handle it
in the morning.
"Come on," he said genfiy, "let's go to bed."
As he led her upstairs, he realized that Sylvia was fight. He did
love his wife. He loved her very much. He hoped it wasn't too
late for' them.


23

The next day, Columbus Day, dawned bright and cold, with a north
wind rattling the house at the end Conger's Point. By nine
o'clock the brightness was gone, and the gray skies blended into
an almost visible horizon with the leaden sea. There was a heavy
swell 'rOnnlng, and the surf pounded at the Point with a winter
strength.
"I know it's a holiday," Rose heard Jack saying into the
telephone as she came down the stairs. "But I think it's pretty
important. She seems to have been sleep-, walking."
Fifteen miles'away, in his cramped apartment at White Oaks,
Charles Belter was stifling a yawn. He came awake at the word and
his brows knit into a frown. Sleepwalking? It didn't fit the
pattern. "just what do you mean by sleepwalking?" he inquired. He
yawned again, covering the mouthpiece of the telephone, and
reached for his coffee. He was glad Jack Conger was at least
aware it was a holiday, even if he didn't intend to respect the
facL
-"Well," Jack was saying, 'I'.m not really sure she was
sleepwalking. It just seems to be the most logical explanation.
She was wandering around in the rain last
night." .
.,I Belter set his coffee down and straightened up. "In
 the rain?" he said. "You mean outside?" . "That's right."
"What time was this?"


298 30HN SAUL

"rd say about eleven thirty. Maybe midnight." "How long was she
outside?"
"I don't have any idea. We didn't how she'd gone anywhere. My
wife came down to get something to eat, and while she was i the
kitchen Sarah came in.
Soaking wet and muddy.``
"I see," Dr. Belter said, '"Did she seem to .. all right
otherwise?"
'"I I don't really know," Jack faltered; "I wasn't home.``
When' there was no' reply, Jaek= felt he ought. to explain. n
little more, "I had top out for s while," he said.

henring:something in Jack's voice that  him Want tolpry aHttle,
-: ' '-: -
"I'm not sure,`` Jack hedged. "Late. Iguess around

"I see=," Dr, Beltet said again. '+.May. i assume you wantto: m
me 
"If it wouldn't be too inconvenient for you. We think' we're'
going'to have to' make up our minds about what to do With Sarah,
and=wed ' to talk it over with you. And. after last night  yneems
urgent."
· It t 'to  anyway, ' .Belter thought. Aloud 'he Said,  y0 'a'
wife coxne out here about one?""-=,
· 'Sall we bring Sarah willx
I)r. Belier thou-'.it, "'I:. .think.so,, he said. "There really
isn't any need f-; andmost of the staff is off:
y,-so!'.tere-isn't awyone=lround to look aftether whilewe
talk.'p. , .- .
'"AH t," Jack*said. *-"Weql. see you at. One, then." He hung
upthe. phone and smiled at Rose. She did!not returd his smile'
"One o'clock,"' he: said,' '-ut:he doesn't want us to bring
Sarah."'

 299

Rose looked doubtful. "I don't know," she said, hate to leave her
alone."
"She won't be aldne. Elizabeth vAIl be here, and Mrs. Goodrich."
"It just seems to me, with everything that's been happening, it's
not a good idea to leave the children along."
"I don't call being ldt with Mrs. Goodrich being left alone. When
I was a boy she used to watch me like a hawk when my folks were
away. I think she had visions of the Lindberghs in her mind."
"That was a long time ago," Rose commented. "Sbe!s
getting a bit old to be watching children." "Not that old," Jack
'said,
"Oh, I don't know," Rose said. "I suppose I wouldn't worry, but
with Sarah..." Her voice trailed off, and she poured some coffee
into her-cup. Jack pushed toward her, but she ignored it.
,'Itql be all fight," Jack insisted, and reached for thcoffeepot.
"What will?" Elizabeth asked. Jack looked up .and smiled at his
daughter. He looked for Sarah behind her, but she wasn't there.
"Where's your sister?" he asked.
"Still asleep," Elizabeth replied. "She didn't want to wake up
this morning, so I left her in bed. If you want, I'll go up and
get her." She paused, then repeated her question. "What'll be all
right?"
"We-have to go see Dr. Belter this afternoon," Jack said. "Your
mother's a little worried about leaving you and Sarah alone while
we're gone."
"Won't Mrs. Goodrich be here?" "Of course she vAIl."
"men why should you worry?" Elizabeth asked her mother. 'Tin old
enough to stay by myself, and I can take care of Sarah."
"I'm sure you can," Rose said reassuringly. "Ordinarily I
wouldn't worry at all, but with the things


300 

that have been happening lately I just want to be extra careful.
That's all."
Elizabeth smiled at her mother..Well, stop worrying. Nothing's
going to happen."

-It began drizzling at.noon, and Rose wished she didn't have to
go out. She looked longingly at the fireplace in the study and
thought about how nice it would be to simply curl up on the sofa
and spend the afternoon reading. But she couldn't. There were
things that had to be 'done, and decisions that had to be made.
But not right now. She sank down into the wing !chair and stared
moodily into the fire. She felt' melancholy coming over her, and
tried to force it away. She glanced up at the portrait, and found
that her first thought was that it actually was a picture of
Elizabeth. She reminded heneft that it was not, and wondered once
more who the girl 'in the portrait was. Could she really be the
little girl that Dr. Belter had heard about? No, she told
herserf. The whole thing is silly. She stood up and straightencd
the picture. In the flickering light of the fire the child's
expression seemed to change a little; something in the eyes. She
looked again and decided that her own eyes were pl
aying tricks on her.- Whatever she'd thought she had seen was
gone.
'Well," Jack said from the door, "we might as well get going,"
"Already'Roe std. "We have plenty oftime." She wanted to put it
off, andlshe knewiLI She had a feeling about today, a feeling
that Wda3r wasgoing 'to be some kind of turning poinL' She wanted
o'Iput: the interview with the doctor Off as long as
"I ," Jack'd gently. *I'm:m looking forward to'iteither. Butit's
somhinaIto be done."
"Yes," Rose sighed. "I suppc so right. Let me put on my coat.'Are
the girls d'O?"
." think they're "in the plarroon2."

SUFFER THE CmLDREN 301

"Call them down, will you? I want to kiss them good-bye."
Jack looked at her curiously. "Rose, we're only going to talk
today. You're acting like it's the end of the world or
something."
She smiled tightly. "I suppose I am. But call them down anyway,
will you?"
She began putting on her coat and heard Jacks voice calling from
the foot of the stairs. When she got to the front door the
children were waiting for her.
She kissed Elizabeth perfunctorily, then knelt by Sarah and put
her. arms around the child. She nuzzled Sarah's cheek, and felt
the little girl withdraw slightly.
"You be good now," she whispered. "Mornmy and Daddy have to go
out for a while." She stood up again and smiled at Elizabeth. "We
should be back by four thirty or five," she said. "Please stay in
the house."
"Who wants to go out in that?" Elizabeth said. "I know," Rose
agreed. ,,it,sawful, isn't it?"
"I wish it would snow," FJ!zabcth said. "At least it's pretty.
This is depressing."
Rose smiled at her daughter's use of the word. She was definitely
growing up, if she was starting to find the weather "depressing."
'She ldt the house with her husband and got into the car. She
turned to wave to the children as they drove away, then began
preparing herself for the interview with Dr. Belter.

Elizabeth watched the car until it reached the Point Road, then
closed the door. She was about to go upstairs when the phone
rang.
"I'll get it," she called .to Mrs.. Goodrich. "Hello?" she said
into the receiver.
"Who's this?" a voice asked. "It's Elizabeth. Who's this?"
"Jeff Stcvcus. What are you doing?"


302 ,/OHN SAUL

"Nothing. My parents had to go some place, and I'm taking care of
Sarah."
"Oh." Jeff sounded disappointed. '"I thought we might go look for
the cave," he said.
"The cave? I thought you didn't believe there was a CaVe,"
"I don't. And if we can't find -it you'll have to admit I'm
right, won't you?"
'"I don't know," Elizabeth said noncommittJly. don't see how our
not finding it would prove it isn't there. That doesn't make
sense. All it would prove is that we didn't find it."
"If it's there, we can find it. You want to try?"
Elizabeth thought about it. "Why don't you come
over here?" she said. "Will your parents let you?" "They're out
playing golf," Jeff said. "In the rain?"
"It doesn't bother them. They always .play until it
snows. Sometimes they even play in the snow." "Weird," Elizabeth
commented.
'"Yeah," left said. "I'll see you in a litfie while." Elizabeth
hung up the phone and went to find Mrs. Goodrich,. to tell her
Jeff Stevens ,wss coming over. In the kitchen she could hear the
sound d the old housekeeper's television droning.from the-next
room. Elizae tapped, tightly on the door. When there was no
response,. she tried 'the door,- and finding it Unlocked opened
it and looked into the room. Mrs. Goodrich was sitting in her
chair, facing the television. She was sound asleep. Elizabeth
smiled to hand,ctosed the door again.
TwenBj minutes later left Stevens m, d Elizabeth' led him to
theback' study..ah.fOed silenfiy along behind, her wide brown
eyes ing W 'take in everything and see nothing.
"This is where my great-iinlefi':.Srabbit," li.abeth said,
pointing to the wingS.
"And that's the little girl who was supposed to have

1 

 303

been killed?" Jeff asked, pointing to the portrait above the
fireplace.
'"That's Beth," Elizabeth said, nodding her head. "She looks just
like you," Jeff said.
"I know. But she isn't me. I don't like her."
Jeff grinned at her. "You sound like you how her." "I do,"
Elizabeth said. "I've talked to her."
"That's dumb," Jett said. "You can't talk to dead people."
"Yes you can," Elizabeth insisted. "With the Ouija board."
"It didn't say anything the other day," Jeff said sarcastically.
"All it did was spell out a name. And I'll bet you did that."
"It was her," Elizabeth said defiantly.
"Well, if it's all true, let's g6 find the cave. If there is one,
I'll bet that's where your friend Beth is."
"I don't how," Elizabeth said. "The cave is supposed to be on the
embankment, and I'm not supposed to go there."
"I'm not either," Jeff said. "But I'm not going tO let that stop
me. Are you chicken?"
"No, but I just don't think we should."
"You're afraid we won't find it and you'll have tO admit you're
wrong."
"All right, then," Elizabeth said suddenly. '.'Let's go." She
turned to leave the room, and Jeff smiled. It had worked.
Elizabeth found her coat and put it on. "We'll have to take Sarah
with us," she said. "I can't leave her here by herself."
"What about the housekeeper? Can't she watch her?"
"She's asleep. Besides, she wouldn't know what to do if Sarah
gets upset."
Jeff decided it was better to take Sarah with them than not to go
at all.
"All right," he agreed. "Let's go."

.L . .


SAUL

· !' Eli  put Sarah into' her t and buttoned it up: Then the
three children left the house.
IT he rain seemed to have let up slightly as they crossed the
field, and when they were in the woods the trees protected them
from it almost completely. As they
 entered the woods, Jeff looked around. "Which way?" he asked.
"There's a path," Elizabeth said. "'You can hardly see it, but
it's there. Come on." Her voice seemed suddenly different to
Jeff, and he thought her eyes looked odd.
Silently and quickly she led the way through the woods, and Jeff
was amazed at her sure-footedness. Elizabeth seemed to. know
exactly where she was going, and where to put each foot in the
tangle of roots and rocks-that carpeted the path. Nor did she
look back to see ff the others were keeping up. Twice Jeff had to
call to her to wait, and he stopped two more times to help Sarah,
who was picking her way with great difficulty. And then they
emerged from the woods and stood on the embankment. The rain had
begun coming down harder now, and the wind whipped it into the'tr
faces. Below them the sea looked angry, Jeff felt himself shiver
a litfie, and wondered ff he should have talked them into this.
The embankment looked as dangerous .as his' parents had told him
it was.
"ere do you supposo it is?; he said, hoping that EliZabeth
,would'suggest that they give it up.
"I'm not sure," Elizabeth said.. "Let's try his Way." She led
them along the*embankment. and Jeff was about to suggest that t
was too dangerous. when Elizabeth suddenly Started making her way
down :the face, following la path 'that Jeff couldn't see .at
all. He watched her move surely from,rock to rockdecided. that if
she could do it, so could he.
But hefoundit more difficult than he hKd. imagined. The rocks
were slippery, and he couldn't Seem to find the same toeholds
that hadserved Elizth so:well. He



made his way' slowly, trying to keep one eye on Elinbeth to try
to see where she was putting her feet. Now and then he glanced
back to see how Sarah was Earing, but she seemed to be able to
keep up with. him, and in a couple of minutes he stopped worrying
about her. The rain was making the rocks more slippery every
minute, and he was afraid he was about to lose' sight of
Elizabeth as she made her way nimbly downward. He called to her,
but she didn't hear him ove the roar of the wind and the surf.
And .then she disappeared behind a large boulder.
He crept cautiously along, picking his way from one rock to
another, and concentrated on keeping the largo boulder behind
which Elizabeth had disappeared in
sight. Behind him Sarah was matching his slow pace. "Here."
Jeff jumped at the sound of the word, and peered into the shadow
of the huge stone. There was Elizabeth, Crouching low to protect
herseft from the rain and wind.
"What?" he said.
"It's here," Elizabeth told him. "I found the cave."
Jeff frowned and searched the darkness. "Thero'8 nothing there,"
he said.
"Yes, there is," Elizabeth insisted. "Come down here."
He climbed down till he was beside her. "Where?" "Right there,"
Elizabeth said, pointing. Then he saw it. There, in the rock's
deep shadow, almost invisible in the darkness, was a hole in the
embankment. He moved closer and peered in. He was aware of Sarah
behind him, pulling at him and making small, sobbing noises. He
shook her off, and when she reached out for. him again Elizabeth
took her hands and stared into her eyes. A moment later, Sarah
.was calm.
"What do you suppose is inside?" Jeff asked.
"I don't know," Elizabeth replied. "Shall we look?'.' Jeff looked
doubtfully at the hole. It seem'd just


, ough to arawl into, and he wasn't sure it led ?ywhee. Sfitt, he
didn't want to. look like a coward.
"I'll go first," he said,: trying to sound much more dent than he
felt
, He made his way into the tunnelsand found that there wa. enough
room to crawl comfortably. He eased forward,feeling his way in
the darkness,
Behind him Elizabeth took the flashlight from its hiding place,
but she didn't turn it on. She followed along behind Jeff. Sarah
followed Elizabeth.
Jeff wasn't sure how far they had gone in the tunnel, but in the
blackness it seemed like a long way. He was benning to get
frightened, and was on the verge of telling F-livabeth that he
thought they had gone far enough when he felt a change around
him. Though he could see noticing in the blackness, it felt as
though there was more space around him than there had been. He
reached_out and realized that he was right. He could no longer
feel the close walls of the tunnel. He wondered how large the
cavern they were now in was, and crept cautiously onward. His
hand felt the lip of the shaft, and he stopped. He felt around in
the darkness, trying to determine how deep the drop was. He felt
Elizabeth bump into him. He drew him.elf up and crouched in a
squatting position next to the shaft.
"There's something here," he said. "It drops off. I can't tell
how deeit 'ms, or how wide.,
And then he felt the push from bed him, and he grabbed wildly in
the darkBut  Was nothing for him tO grab on to, and he felt
h'.-lf  through the darlmess. He hit the bottom before he could
scream, and the blackness deepene Jea-Stevensl laystffi on the
floor of the pit.
In the upper cavern,l flx, P-d on the flashlight and moved to the
edge o. t .She shined the light dowllward. It ilhrnlnated Jeas 
forill sprawled by the large flattish rock thatshe had  as a
'table for her tea parties. She cotlid see Hothin  h he pool of



light, and aftera moment she set the flashlight down and began
uncoiling the rope ladder. Behind her, Sarah emerged from the
tunnel and sat cross-legged, trembling, watching her sister.
Elizabeth lowered the ladder into the shaft, and a moment later,
the flashlight glowing dimly in her coat pocket, she disappeared
down into the blackness below. Sarah crept forward and peered
into the depths.
The candles still stood wedged into the cracks where she had left
them, and the c'rarette lighter still lay in its crevice beneath
one of the candles. When she had lit the candles, ELizabeth
turned off the flashlight and looked around.
Kathy Burton lay where she had fallen, her forehead badly
discolored from the blow of the rock. Her eyes were open, and her
face was benning to bloat. Elizabeth poked at her curiously, and
when there was no movement FJizabeth tried to close the eyes.
They wouldn't close.
Jimmy Tyler lay naked, huddled against the wall of the cave. His
eyes, too, were open, but they held the expression of a small and
terrified creature. He was whimpering and shivering. When
Elizabeth approached him he seemed notre see her, and there was
no reaction when she touched hirn He was clutching the torso of
the dead carl to his chest, as if it were a teddy bear. The smell
of death filled every corner of the cavern, and Elizabeth
breathed deeply of it. She smiled at the skeleton that lay
against the wall
"It's good, isn't it?" she whispered. "Look, they're all here
now. Mornmy and Daddy and their baby. And your father, Beth. I
brought your father to 'visit you today. Do you want to alk to
your father?"
She dragged Jeff Stevens's uncouscious body over to the skeleton
and laid it out next to the fleshless bones. She moved the arms
of the .skeleton so that Jeff lay in its cold embrace.
Slowly Elizabeth began setling up another tea party,


308 3om UL

the last tea party. She dragged the body of Kathy Burton from the
spot where it lay and wrenched it 'rate a sitting position on one
of the small stones that surrounded the table. It pitched forward
and-lay face down on the larger slab of rock. Then Elizabeth
began working the torso of the cat loose from Jimmy Tyler's
grasp. He fought with her mincllessly, aware of what was going on
but not wanting to be disturbed in whatever place his mind had
taken him to. He fought passively, his small arms trying to hold
on to the body of the cat, but he did not try to kick out at
Elizabeth. He fought silently, again.t a force that no longer
made any sense to him. The cat slipped loose from his grip, and
his arms closed on the empty space.
She propped the cat up once more, but was not able to make the
head balance on the rotting shoulders. She watched it roll off,
and let it lie where it came to rest, a no-longer-reconizable
object in a soiled blue bonnet.
Then she began moving Jimmy Tyler. He didn't resist; he didn't
realize that anything was happening to him. With nothing left to
hold on to, he seemed to give up, and Elizabeth was able to prop
him up, his vacant eyes staring bl_ankly off through the
flickering candlelight.
F. lizabeth began tnlldng, but her speech was incohereat. Her
voice kept changing pitch, and it was as ff she were two people,
first one and then the the.
As she talked she began to grow angry_.  anded
that the objects of her anger ffd when they. didn't her
rage-onlyI in'.-'  ,;- ·
"Answer me," sh ....ai* was not her own. 'I,want ' wh:: didRt
Why; did you leave me h?s cokL It frightens

Thee was asilencas die wTM for an answer. But there was no answer
....

 309

"You're all alike," she hissed. "All of you. None of you have
ever changed. You love et." She kicked at the body of the cat,
and it fell at the base of the cavern wall. "You always pay more
attention to her. Why can't you pay attention to me, too?"
And then she seemed re change again, and she stared down at the
unconscious Jeff. "You're where you want to be now, aren't you? I
wouldn't help you that day, would I? So you put me down here, by
royserf. But I knew you'd come back. And you'll stay with me this
time. This time you'll stay. You and  oj them.-'
Elizabeth snatched the knife from the ledge where it had long
lain hidden and whirled to face the children. "You'll all stay
with me now.e' she screamed.
She fell upon the body of Kathy Burton, hacking at it With the
knife,-chopping wildly, tearing at the flesh of the corpse When
it lay dismamberecl, she turned to Jimmy Tyler.
He screamed as the kn'ffe plunged into his stomach, then fell
gurgling to the floor of the cavern as she chew it out again and
stabbed at his throat. He wriggled beneath her, his body
responding refiexively as the knife cut at him. Elizabeth lay on
top of hm, the knife flashing in the-yellow light of the candles
as' she continued to slash at him. In her fury she did not hear
the low moans 'that came from Jeff Stevens as he slowly regained
consciousness.
He was trying to remember what had happened. He'd been in the
dark, and somebody had pushed him. He'd been falling. In the
cave. He was in the cave. But it wasn't dark any more. Instead,
there was a yellowish glow, as if candies were burning. And
sounds. Strange, gurgling noises. He opened his eyes and tried to
move his head.
He saw Elizabeth. His stomach heaved as he realized what she was
doing. She was stabbing at something, but there was so much blood
he couldn't see what it


310 om SAUL

was. He heaved himself ,to his hands and knees and looked again.
It was a little boy. _Elizabeth was stabbing a little boy.
"NoI" he cried out. He tried to get to his feet, but he was too
dizzy. He saw Elizabeth turn, .and heard her speak.
"Youl" she cried. "You made me do this, Daddy. You did it to me,
and now I'll do it to you. You'll stay here with me, Daddy. You
won't leave me alone again."
He knew then that she was insane, and he tried to
protect.himgelf, but there was nothing he could do. ,still numb
from his fall, seemed incapable of muscles to move, and his arms
and .3ro. Through hazy eyes he ou at himbut he felt nothing.-He
the  gush fromhis _a rm, Aff_ajn he tried " I away, or raise his
arm in defense, but he felt -paralyzed. Terror welled up in him
mad the knife was fiashillg at him. Again and again. Soon he saw
nothing. He-wondered why he felt no pain. It should hurt, he
thought; dying should hurt. But it did not hurt, and Jeff Stevens
drifted slowly into death. As the fog began to close over his
mind, Jeff began to pray.
lli7abeth continued to slash at him. long after he died, and when
she was done his body was no longer reco,nizable. It lay in
pieces, scattered across the floor of the cavern, mixed with the
dismembered corpses of Jimmy Tyler and Kathy Burton. And then her
rage was spent, and Elizabeth sat in the midst of the gore and
stared curiously around her.
"Why did you do that?" she said softly."I don't understand why
you had to do it. They ,didfit do any, _thing to you. They were
your friends, And besides, it all happened so long ago. So very
long 'g0." She crawled across the floor othe;cave and knelt over
the skeleton.'
"You shouldn't have done it,.Beth," she said, her voice a little
stronger. "You should have left them

SUFFER THE CmLDREN 311

alone. They weren't who you thought they were. He wasn't your
father. Your father died a long time ago. And the others. They
weren't my parents, and that cat wasn't Sarah. It was only a cat,
Beth. A poor, helpless cat. Why did you make me do it? I don't
hate them, Beth. I don't. It's you who hate them. It's you who
hate all of them..Why can't you leave them alone? They didn't do
anything to you. None of them did. None el them." And she was
angry again, but now she was angry at Beth, poor Beth, who had
died so long ago.
Elizabeth grabbed one of 'the arm hones and raised it over her
head.
"Diet" she screamed. "Why won't you die and leave us alone?" She
brought the bone down, crushing the skull. "Die," she whispered
once more. "Please die, and leave me alone."
And then it was over. Flizabeth stood up and walked to the rope
ladder. She didn't blow out the .candles; they would die of their
own accord. Nor did she pull the ladder up from the shaft. There
was no n.eCd to now; she would not be coming back, nor would
anyone use the ladder to escape. Elizabeth crept through the
tunnel and emerged from the hole in the embankment. She began
climbing upward, away from the cave.
In the darkness, Sarah stared down into thc flickering yellow
light below. Then, slowly, she began making her way down the
ladder.
Sarah worked slowly in the pit, trying to fit the pieces back
together. When she was finished, she found the canteen of water
she had dropped down the shaft so long ago. She put the mouth of
the hotfie to the lips of each of the dead ch'fidren, and tried
to make them drink.
Then she sat down, and looked around her. She sat for a long
time, waiting.


24

It was four thirty when Dr. Charles Belter wound up the meeting
with Jack and Rose Conger. He was not convinced that anything had
been accomplished, nor was he convinced that anything needed t be
accomplished. He had spent the better part of the afternoon not
in attempting to second-guess the direction that' Sarah's illness
might be taking, but in reassuring her worried parents. That was
half the batfie, he had discovered, in dealing with a case like
Sarah's. The parents read too many books, and.of the wrong sort.
They
· were convinced that their children were turning into some sort
of monsters, and no matter what happened, they projected the
worst. His job, he had found, was not so much to treat the child
as to calm-the parents.
And he had succeeded. As they drove home through' the rain they
felt better about evexJthing. Dr. Belter had told them not w
worry. They had faith in the doctor; they wouldn't worry. The
rain came down harder, and they could feel the temperature
dropping.
"Early winter this year," Jack commented as he turned off the
Conger's Po'mt Road. "This could turn into snow any time."
"I always like the first snow out here," Rose said. "Sometimes I
think the house was designed for w'mter. The snow seems to soften
it somehow." She looked. through the rain to the old house,
looming up ahead,' and felt a strange sense of foreboding. It's
the weather, she thought. Rain always makes the place so gloomy.


3 I4 

The phone started ringing as they opened the front door.
"Got it," Jack called, and-picked up the receiver with one hand
as he unbuttoned his dripping coat with the other. "Hello?"
"Jack? Barbara Stevens. We just got home from playing golf -"
"In this weather?" Jack said, disbelieving.
Barbara chuckled. "Some of us will play in anything. But Fll tell
you something, just between us. That old shack that serves as a
clubhouse needs a new roof."
"It needs a new everything, but there aren't enough members to do
it: Besides, I doubt that anybody but you would be out there on a
day like today."
"It was pretty wet," Barbara admitted. "Anyway, 1 was just
wondering if Jeff is over there. He was supposed to be home all
afternoon, but he isn't here. And since he doesn't really know
anyone yet except you, I thought he might be playing with your
kids."
,'We just got in ourselves," Jack said. "Hang on, and rll find
out if hes here." He set the receiver on the table and turned to
Rose, who was watching him curiously.
"Barbara Stevens," he said. "She's wondering if Jeff is here."
Rose felt a slnlcing sensation in her stomach. She was
remembering a similar telephone call, a call that had come from
Kathy Burton's mother only days ago. How many days7 She couldn't
member. Her feeling of foreboding increased.
'"What's wrong7"-Jack asked his wife seeing her face lose its
color."
"Nothing,"' Rose said., "I was just thinking -" She broke=off.
"lOt_hlng'' she said agaim "I'll call Eliza-

She stepped to the foot of the stairs and called upward, her
voice echoing ithrough the house, 'In a moment they heard a door
open mid- close and footsteps ap-

 315

preaching the head of the stairs. Then Rose saw her daughter.
"Hi," Elizabeth said. "I' didn't hear you come I was reading."
"Didn't you hear the phone ring?" Rose asked curiously.
"Yes, but when it stopped after the second ring I figured Mrs.
Goodrich had gotten it. Is it for meT'
"No," Rose said. "It's Mrs. Stevens. Is Jeff here?" '"Jeff?"
Elizabeth asked. "He left hours agO." The feeling of foreboding
flooded over Rose. "Then he was here?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Oh, yes.He came over right after
you left. He said he wanted to hunt for the cave." "The cave?"
Rose frowned.
"You know. The legend. He said it doesn't exist, and he wanted to
go look for, it. He wanted me to go with him, but I wouldn't. I
told him 'it was too dangerous. Besid.es,. it was nining."
Jack, who had been listening to the conversation between Rose and
Elizabeth, picked Ithe telephone up again.
"Barbara?" he said. "Apparently he was here, but that was early
this afternoon. Elizabeth doesn't know where he was going, but
apparently he said something about wanting to hunt for the cave."
"The cave?" Barbara asked. "You mean the one on the embankment on
the Point?"
"I guess so," Jack replied. "If there really is one. It's mostly
just an old family legend. No one's ever found it."
"The embankment's dangerous, isn't it?" Barbara said, worry
sharpening her voice.
Jack decided to be truthful. "Yes, it is. That's one of the
reasons we've kept the legend going. It's been a useful tool for
keeping children away from a-dangerous place."


316 JoHIq SAUL
"I know, Rose told me about it when we moved in. We told Jeff to
stay away from there"
"Then I'm sure he did," Jack said reassuringly. "He probably just
decided to go for a hike and lost track of time."
"I don't know," Barbara said, the anxiety in her voice rising.
"He doesn't ktow the area, and be's usually pretty responsible
about things."
"But he's a teenager," Jack reminded her. "They can be counted on
not to be counted On."
"I suppose so," Barbara said doubtfully. "Well, I won't start
worrying for another hour. If he isn't home by six, I don't know
what we'll do."
"Fro sorry I couldn't help you more. If he turns up here, we'll
call you." They said good-bye,-and Jack hung up the phone. He
turned to Rose, and the worry he had not allowed to show i his
voice was etched on his face.
"It's like the others, isn't it?" he said.
Rose nodded mutely,. It was too much like the others. And then
she remembered Sarah, Sarah had not been stlxnding behind her
sister at the head of the stairs..She glanced upward and saw
Elizabeth still standing where she had been, waiting to be told
what Mrs. Stevems had said.
'"Wheres Sarah?" Rose said, finding her voice. "Sarah?" Elizabeth
repeated' the name. "In her room, I guess. Or the playrOom." She
fell silent and appeared to be listening. "Just a second," she
said. "I'll look?
They heard her footsteps in the hall as she made her way first to
Sarah'S room, then to the playroom. When they heard' her
approaching the head .0f the stairs again, and did not hear the
soft mur 0f her voice' speaking to her sister, they kneW. that
she had not found Sarah. Elizabeth reappeared-at the head of the
stain and started down.
"Sbe's not up here," she was saying. "She's probably with Mrs.
Goodrich."

 317

As they began searching downstairs, Rose knew they would not find
Sarah. Instead of joining in the search, she went into her litfie
office and sank into the chair at her desk. For some reason she
found some security there, some security she was suddenly sure sh
was going to need.
"Well," Jack said, trying to keep his voice steady. "She isn't
down here, either. Mrs. Goodrich thought she was upstairs,."
"Sheds got to be here," Rose said desperately. "Look upstairs.
again. She might be in our room, or the guest room. And the
attic. Look in the attic."
She did not volunteer to -join in the search, for she was sure it
was useless. Sarah was not in the house. Rose sat in her desk
chair and listened as Elizabeth and Jack made the'Lr way
systematically through' the house. There was a silence as they
searched the thirdfloor attic; then she heard them on the second
floor, and finally coming down the stairs. They came :into the
small office, and Jack shook his head. "Nothing?' he said. "Shc's
not here."
"I didn't think she would be," Rose said. "Not when she wasn't in
her room." They looked at one-another, unsure of what to'do ncxt.
"The barn," Elizabeth said suddenly. "Maybe she went out to the
barn." Without waiting for an answer from her parents, sbe left
the room, and they heard the front door open. And then they heard
Elizabeth scream.
It was not' the same sort of scream they were used to from Sarah,
the frustrated scream of a child who finds herself unable to
comrntlnicate by ally other mealis. Elizabcth's was a scream of
horror. It ,froze Jack and Rose momentarily; then they wcrc on
their feet, racing for the front door. They found F. lizabeth on
the front perch, staring wildly out at the field. They followed
the direction of her eyes; and Rose felt a scream emerging from
her own lips. She was able to suppress it only by clamping her
hand over her mouth.


3 18 
From the woods, a small form had emerged, and was now making its
way across the field toward the house. It was Sarah, and even
from here they could see that she was soaking wet and coveed with
mud. And there was something else.' Something that streaked her
fae ind arms, and stained her clothing with a redness that they
knew was not mud.
It was blood. Sara was covered with blood.
"Jesus God," Jack muttered, his mind almost unable to accept what
his eyes were seeing. And then he remembered that Elizabeth, too,
was watching the strange apparition that was coming slowly across
the field. He took his daughter's arm and pulled her into the
house.
Elizabeth seemed dazed, and she did not resist as Jack led her
upstairs and into her room.
"Stay herei" he said. "Don't come downstairs until I come up to
get you." He looked at her closely, and saw that her face was
pale and she was shaking. "Are you all fight?"
She nodded, and her mouth moved. "What's wrong with her, Daddy?"
she said in a small voice. "Is she hurt?"
"I don't know," Jack said. "But it will be all right. Just stay
here, and it will be all fight." Elizabeth, suddenly seeming much
younger, peered up into his face, and he gathered her into his
arms. She began sobbing quietly.
"It's going to be all right, honey," Jack whispered. "rll take
care of her." He rocked her gently, and she calmed down. He laid
her on the bed. "Try not to think about it," he said. "I have tgo
down and help her now, but FI1 be back in a littte while. Try not
to think about it," he repeated, and knew tt there was no way she
would be able lobtot what she; had seen out of her mind.
Rose was still g on the front porch, her hand still clamped over
her mouth, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Sarah was
still in the field, getting

 319

closer to the house, moving slowly, the object she carried
dragging in the mud behind her. It was getting colder, and there
was snow mixed with the rain now.
Small'sounds started to come out of Rose as she tried to come to
terms with what she was seeing. The object in Sarah's hand was
clearly visible now, and as the realization of what it was came
to Jack he had to fight down the rising nausea in his stomach.
It was a child's, arm, and it had been severed at the shoulder.
It seemed to be badly lacerated, and the blood was slowly oozing
from it, dripping from the ragged stump that bumped through the
mud behind Sarah.
Sarah seemed unaware of the rain and snow, or of the cold. She
moved forward steadily, her vacant eyes fixed on her parents as
they stood on the porch waiting forher. Jack wanted to go to her,
to pick her up and carry her home, but he was unable to.
Helplessly he stood next to his wife as their daughter came
toward them.
And-then she was home. She stood at the hottom of the steps to
the porch and stared blsnkly up at them. Then she lifted the
severed arm and held it out, presenting it to them as if it were
a gift.
The hysteria she had been holding back swept over Rose. Her mouth
opened jerkfly, and the scream that had been struggling in her
throat burst forth to resound aross the field. The trees in the
woods almost seemed to tremble with the screams that tore out of
the tormented woman's being. Her eyes began playing tricks on
her, and all she could see was the .arm, the bloody arm,
suspended against a background that was fast going black.
It-seemed to grow bdore her eyes, and then all she could see was
the stump, the ragged flesh surrounding the hone. Her screams
rose to a hysterical
pitch.
Blizabeth's first scream had awakened Mrs. Goodrich, and she had
sat peering dazedly at her television set, unsure whether or not
it had been the source of the sound that had awakened her. When
she began hear-


320 

ing Rose's screams she realized that it had not been the
television. She got to her feet and headed stiffly for the front
of the house.
The-anguished cries grew as she approached the front door, but it
wasn't until she was on the porch that she realized the cause.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the bloodied, mud,covered child.
She fought down the nausea and glanced at Rose, quickly realizing
that it was the mother, not the daughter, who needed irnrnediate
attention.
"Take care of Miz Rose," she commanded Jack. She moved forward
and, swallowing hard, disengaged Sarah's fingers from the wrist
of the dismembered arm. Taking Sarah by one hand and holding the
grisly arm in the other, she led Sarah into the house. She took
her quickly to the kitchen, and stood her in front of the sink.
Then she wrapped the arm in a towel and set it aside. She began
working on Sarah, stripping her clothes from her and wiping her
off. Then she wrapped the child in an old blanket from her own
room and went to the phone. She dialed the number for the police
station and asked for Ray Norton.
"Ray," she said. "s is Mrs. Goodrich out at the Congers'. You'd
better get out here fast. Something bad's happened. And bring a
doctor with you. That one from White Oaks, if you can get hold of
him. He knows

The police chief started to ask some questions, but the old
housekeeper cut him off.
"When you get here," she said. "I've got other things to do." She
hung up the te16phone and returned to Sarah. The child sat meekly
waiting, and offered no resistance as Mrs. Goodrich led her
upstairs. to the bathroom.
Mrs. Goodrich's command had brought Jack to his senses. He
grabbed Rose and shook her.x,
"It's .all right," he Said "Mrs. Goodrich is taking care of her."
When Rose continued screaming, he sho6k her


 321

harder and yelled at her. 'lt's all right:t" he shouted, and her
screams suddenly stopped. She stared at him, her mouth working,
her eyes wide.
"Come on," he said. He led her into the house and forced her to
come with him to the back study. He poured two large ramblers of
brandy and handed one of them to Rose. "Drink this," he
commanded. "You need

Wordlessly she accepted the glass and drained half of it. Then,
shakily, she sank to the sofa. '
"What shall we do' she breathed. "Oh, God, Jack, what shall we
do?"
· 'Call Dr. Belter,. Jack said quietly. "I'll call Dr. Belter.
And Ray Norton." But neither of them made a move toward the
telephone. They simply sat there, staring at each other, trying
to assimilate what they had seen. They were still there, sitting
in the study, when Ray Norton arrived.

He had been getting ready to go home when the call came. He had
known immediately that something was wrong. Very wrong. In all
the years he had known her, he had never known Mrs. Goodrich to
use the telephone. So he called the White Oaks School and told
Dr. Belter to meet him at the Congels'. Then' he had gotten into
his car and'raced out the Conger's Point Road, using the siren
for the first time since he had had it instlled.
The ront door stood o. pen, and he didn't bother to rg the bell.
He went in and closed the door behind him. He could hear water
running somewhere ups,jrs, but there were no other sounds. He
started for the sairs, then changed his mind and went down the
hall to the back study. He opened the door and saw Jack and Rose
Conger sitting quietly by the fireplace, their faces pale.
Neither of them moved when he came into the room.


322 :OHN SAUL

'Mrs. Goodrich called me," he said soffiy. 'Jhe said something
happened out here."
"Yes," lack said dully. "Only we don't know what." He fell
silent, and Ray Norton moved closer.
"Are you all right?" he said. "What hapl,ned?'' "You'd better
call Dr. Belter at the White Oaks School," lack said. "I was
going to do it myself, but..." His voice trailed off again.
'"Ifs done," Norton said. "Mrs. Goodrich told-me to call him.
He's on his way." He paused, unsure whether he should wait for
the doctor before pressing lack and Rose for information.
Whatever it was, it seemed to he over now. He got a feeling of
shock from the house, but not of emergency. It was as if
something terrible had passed over them, leaving them 8Droned. He
decided to wait ,for the doctor. He noted the empty glasses
in-the hands of both the Congers, and, though he supposed that he
shouldn't, he refilled them.
"You look like you need thl.q,'' he said gently. He
sat down, and together,they waited for Dr. Belter. The
-sound of nmning water upstairs suddenly stoppe and the house was
silent. Then Rose began to softly

It ,Was nlmOSt thirty rnimltes bdore they heard the d0o/oell
ring, and. Ray Norton stood up to answer it. Then they heard the
heavy Humping d Mrs. Goodrich's feet coming down the gain, and
the murmur of voices. A moment later the housekeeper opened the
study door and let the psychiatrist in. Without waiting. to be
asked, Mrs. Goodrich came into the room and the door behind her.
"I put her to bed," she said. "She's asleep. And I looked in on
Miss Flizabeth. She's scared, but she'sTM all
right.,
Dr. Belter looked curiously at lack' and Rose Conger. "What
happened?" he said, and when there-waa

SUFFER THE CLDRN 323

answer, he turned to the housekeeper. "Bat happened?" he asked
again.
"Well," Mrs. Goodrich said shortly. "It isn't pretty, and I don't
know for sure what ifs all about. I was in my room, watching
television, and all of a sudden I heard the most awful commotion.
It was Miz Rose, and she was screaming. 'Course, I didn't know
who was screaming till I got to the front porch, and after' I got
there I didn't pay much attention. It was Miss Sarah. She' was
standing there, in the rain, all covered with mud and blood· And
she had something in her hand."
"What?" the doctor asked when the old woman fell silent. Mrs.
Goodrich shot a glance toward Rose. "What was she carrying?.',
the doctor pressed.
"It it was an arm," ME. Goodrich said. "It's in the kitchen.. I
left it there when I took Miss Sarah up . to the bathroom."
"Oh, Jesus," Ray Norton breathed. He looked helplessly at the
docWr, wondering what to do. Dr. Belter resaized he would have to
take charge for the moment.
"You'd better come with me," he told the police chief. 'I don't
see what good it will do right now, but we'd better have a look
at it."
The two men: went to the kitchen and unwrapped the bloedstained
towel. Ray Norton felt his stomach belling at the grisly' sight.
"A child," Dr. Belter said. "It's the right arm d a child."
Norton nodded dumbly. 'How old?"
Dr. Belter shrugged. "Hard to say, but it looks like a small
child. No more than eight or nine."
'7he same age as Jirn/ny Tyler," Ray Norton said softly. "And the
blood hasn't coagulated yet."
"It couldn't have happened very long ago," the doctor said. "It
must have been this afternoon."
They rewrapped the arm and returned to the study. Ray Norton
looked at the Congers uncomfortably.


324 OHN SAr-

"I know this is going to be hard," he said, as-gently as he
could, "but I'm go'mg to have to ask you some questions."
"I know," Jaclc said dully. "Can Dr. Blter take Rose upstairs? I
think she ought to lie down. I saw everything she saw."
"Of course," Norton replied, signaling the doctor to take Rose
from the room. He waited till they were gone, then sat down
opposite Jack.
"What happened, Jack? Take your time. I know it must have been
awful, but I have to know what hap-

"I don't know. We got home from White Oaks, and Sarah wasn't in
the house. We searched, and then Elizabeth said she might be in
the barn. She was going out o look, and when she 'got to the
porch she screamed. Rose and I went out to see what was wrong,
and... we n." He winced s littl ming the gruesome scene

dta' :that-that thing. God, Ray, it was-awful."
 :-e was cOming out of the woods7
uyes,,-
"Well. I know this isn't going to be pleasant for you, but I'm
going to have to put together a search party. If Sarah found that
thing in the woods, we've got to find the rest of the " He broke
off, not wanting to say what was in his mind.
"My God," Jack whispered suddenly, "I forgot." Norton jerked his
head up.
uIt's Jeff Steveus," Jack continued softly, staring helplessly at
the policeman. "He's
Norton stared back at Jack in disbelie,' "Jeff Stevens?" He
repeated the name as if he'd never heard it
before; "The kid in the old  Jack nodded dunably.
"Shit," Norton m under .his . ,Then: 'tAre you sure?" "- ....
"It's all the same," Jack said hopelessly. "He was in

 325

this area, he didn't show up at home. Just like the others."
Norton stood up. "I'll call his parents. I wonder if his father
will want to be part of the search party."
"I suppose," Jack said. "We have to find out what's happening,
don't we?" He paused a moment, then went on. "I'll come along
too, Ray. The least I can do is help look."
Norton shook his head. '.'Not you," he said. "You've been through
enough."
He went to the telephone and began making a series of calls. By
the time he was finished, Carl and Barbara Steveus were on their
way over'and a search party had been organized. He looked out the
window toward the woods. It had begun snowing, and it seemed to
be falling harder each minute.
As he watched, the woods slowly disappeared into the snowstorm.

They searched the woods, first in the fading light of dusk, then
using lights, but they found nothing. If there was a trail, the
snow covered it, and as the night. wore on the storm grew. After
four hours they gave it up. The search party returned to the
house on Conger's Point, but soon they began drifting back to
town. There was nothing to be accomplished on the Point. In town,
where there were no Congers to overhear, the people, of Port
Arbello could talk.
In the house on Conger's Point, only Ray Norton and Dr. Belter
remained. They sat in the study with Jack Conger, and the three
of them talked. There was no talk of whether something should be
done with Sarah; only of what should be done. Jack Conger was
fired. He was tired and he felt terribly alone. He sat with the
doctor and the police chief only because it was his daughter they
were discussing, his family. But he was beyond caring what they
decided to do. He would do whatever had to be done. He poured
himself another


326 om SAUL
drink and seated himself by the fire. He envied Ros, who lay
sedated and asleep upstairs.
I)r. Belter was just finialling a long explanation of the details
of Sarah's illness. When he was done, Ray Norton lit his pipe,
something he rarely did, and leaned back.
"WEB, I just don't know what to do," he said at last. "I'm going
to have to tell people .something, you know."
Dr. Belter smiled tightly. "Tell them what you want. If you ask
me, which I suppose you're about to do, I don't have any answers.
I wish that search party had found something. But they didn't,
and we can't change that."
Norton nodded his agreement. "Let me ask you a question. Is it
possible, at all possible, for Sarah to have killed the
children?"
"I don't know," Dr. Belter said hesitantly. He didn't like to
deal in possib'flities. He had seen so much that he was ' to
think that praclje. ally anything was possibl He saw:.that
his-answe was going to be unacceptable to the chid d police, so
he weighed his words

"Let me put it this way. I have to say that, yes, it is possible
for Sarah to have killed all three of the missing children. I say
that not because I think she,did, but because at the moment we
don't have any alternatives to choose from. If I were you I'd
keep searcb'_mg,-tlfis' snow lasts through the winter, I'd
continue looking in the spring. Somewhere out there'.is-the-
d-that body, and maybe two more bodies -: I certainly don't think
that you can  with-anything on the basis of one arm. I ._rn S
.:I-adrni at the moment we don't have much ee to think. But you
should also be aware that;if fly to that Sarah is responsible for 
bering of one child

to happen. Any psycatrist you find. will tell you the

SUFFER THE CHILDKEN 327

same thing I will. Sarah is not responsible for what she does.
She is almost hopelessly schizophrenic. I say aimost because with
her kind of disorder there is always a chance that she'll come
out of it. But even if she does, there's no guarantee that she'll
be able- to tell you what happened. She probably won't remember.
Frankly, if I were you I'd keep the case open."
"And what about Sarah?" Ray, Norton said uneasily. "What if she
is responsible?"
"I don't think there's too much question about Sarah's future.
I'm sure that after the last couple of days the Congers will
agree that it's time she was institutionalized. It'll be the best
thing for her, and the best for them. They can't go on living as
they have been."- He looked
to $ack, and Jack nodded his 'agreement. "When?" Jack said.
Dr. Belter thought it over. "Tonight, I think. I don't see any
reason why your wife should have to go through it. It isn't easy
to see your child leave your house for the last time. And it will
be better for Sarah, too. I can take her to White Oa__lc_s for
tonight, and we can talk tomorrow about the best place for her."
Jack-nodded mutely. He wondered why he didn't feel. anything but
he didn'L
"I'm sorry," Ray Norton said. They had moved-into the hall, and
Ray was standing uncomfortably by the front door, wanting to get
away. "If there's anything. I can do . . ." His voice trailed off
as Jack shook his head.
"Thanks, Ray," he said. "I don't know. I guess I'm feeling numb."
Jack started up the staixs to pack a suitcase for Sarah, and Ra(
Norton_ put his hand ou the front door.
"Wait a moment, please," Dr. Belter said softly to the police
chief.
Norton's hand dropped from the doorknob, but he didn't meet the
psychiatrist's eyes. For the last hour he


had heard a lot of things he hadn't- wanted tohear, and he was
embarrassed. He was acutely aware that there was such a thing as
knowing too much about your friends, and he had a distinct
feeling he was about to hear even more. He was right. Dr. BeltCr
led him back to the study and quickly filled him in on every
detail of the Conger cases, both Sarah's and. Jack's.
When the doctor was finished Ray Norton stared at him, unable to
conceal the nnimosity he was feeling toward the man.
"Just exactly why are you telling me all this?" he asked. "It
seems to me that what you're doing is tinethical at best and
probably illegal at worst."
Dr. Belter stared at the fire in front of him. He was very much
aware that what Norton was saying was true. What he was doing was
both unethical and illegal, but he had thought it over carefully
before deciding to go ahead.  now it 'was too late -he had
already

;-""'Yontie fight, of course," he said uncomfortably.
"'Asldbelieve me. if I thought there was any other way of goin at
this thing I woulds't be doing what I'm do'rag
right now."
"I don't see what you hope to accomplish," Norton said.
"You mean you don't want to see." Belter's reproach was mild.
"What I'm suggesting," he said, his voice hardening, "since you
want me to spell it out, is that I think there's a distinct
possibility that J_aCk er might be involved in all this mess."
"I don't see how," Norton observed. "-¥= your.lf admit that he
was in your offic wh at least-one and possibly two of the
appearances took place."
'7hat's not quit-true. -We don't,  ;know when the disappearances
took place. All we know, is when and where the c werelast see
And, as it happens, they were all sen cor near the Conger prop-

SUFFER  CmLDREN 329

erty. As for when they actually met with . .. whatever it is they
met with, we don't know, do
Norton reluctantly agreed. "lust what are you proposing? That I
charge Jack Conger with killing three children? Granted, I
suppose we couid use your es to establish a record of previous
assault, but where does that get us? Without any bodies, and with
you yourself acting as a witness for an alibi, there isn't a
chance in theworld of making it stick."
"And, of come," the doctor added, "you don't think he had
anything to do with it."
-''No," Norton said flatly. "I don'L"
Dr. Belter leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across
his stomach. "Then what do you propose to do?"
"Nothing," Norton said. "Come spring, I'll have those woods
searched again, and I'll hae a good search made for that cave.
Other than that, I propose to see what happens next. If any more
children disappear, I'H reassess the situation. But if you want
my opinion, I think it's over with."
"You really think SZLrah did it sI17 the psychiatri

Norton nodded. "I'm no shrink, but for my money she did it. And
I'll stick to that opinion till I have something more solid to go
on. The word is already all over town tha{ Sarah Conger went
berserk those aren't my words, but they're the ones that val be
used and she's going to be put away. And in a town like Port
Arbello a story like that counts for a lot. The town will calm
down, and when the word gets out that Sarah's been taken wherever
you take her it'Ll calm down even more. I-don't. propose to stir
it all up again, and I don't propose to have the whole town
talking about something that happened to Jack Conger a year ago.
I assume I can count on you not to tell anyone else what you've
told me?"
'7hat goes without saying," Belter said stiffly. "But


:330 .

dome a favor, will you? Talk to Jack Conger. Don't grill him,
just talk to him. Y, ou don't even have to do it officially."
. "Why?" Norton demanded.
· Belter .mfied thinly. "Just to prod him. You might be
absolutely right he may have nothing to do with all this. But
then agsin; he might. In any case, my profess'lonal opinion is
that he's pretty near the end of his rope emotionally. If you let
him know that you're aware of that, it might make him nervous.
Nervous; enough to mae himself get some help before something
happens that he is mixed up in."
'"I'll thlnlr about it.' Norton said nOnCOmmittaJy. "If there's
nothing else, I have a lot of work to do." He stood up, and the
two men shook hands formally and coldly. When the police chief
had left the house Dr. Belter thought for a while about the two
folders in his office and the look on the policeman's face as hed
left Norton, he knew, would not be .comln for the files. And he
wouldn't prcss the matter himself. Tomorrow he would scal Jack
Conger's foldcr and put it away in. the dcad files, the spcciai
cabinet hc kept for the records of patients he didn't thinc he'd
bc sccin
an.
Suddenly weary, he turned and went upstairs to help Jack, who was
just 6ni.hing with thc pacldn. He looked as though he'd been
crying.
"Ill give her a shot," I)r. Bclter said, "and she even wake up.
You can be at school morrow moning ff you like. It might make
things easier. For you and your wife, if not for her. Frankly, I
doubt she'll even be aware of what's happening. I'm sorry, but I
imagine all this will make things worse for heL"Then he miled,
seeing the cxpression on Jack's face. "Ikm'tforget,'' he went on,
've don't really 'know wh goes 'on in the mind of a child like
Sarah. Often I:pect-that a child's schizophrenia is much harder
on the Iamy than it is on the chlld.A person's mind graliy takes

SUFFER TI-I CHILDREN 331

him where he wants to go. Sarah will be all fight. Maybe IIOt by
your staldards, or by mine, but she's living where  wants to
live. All we can do, really, is wish her Well."
"But what's going to halpen to hc." Tack sked dazedly. He picked
up his child and began carrying her downstairs. Hc knew it would
bc the last thnc..
Dr. Beltcr waited until they had reached the front door heforc hc
answered Jack's question.
"It's hard to say," he murmured at last. "With Sarah, only time
will tell what's going to happen. All I can advise you to do is
go on with your life. Thcre's literally nothing you can do for
Sarah." At the look of pain in' Jack's eyes, hc relented. "I
didn't say forget about her. By all means go on loving her. But
it's time to stop living your lives around her. You and your wife
and li7.abcth are still a family, you know."
Jack wondcrecl how much of a family they would ever be again.
"If I can bc any help to you, please let me know," Belter went
on. "It isn't the end of the world, you.know. It's just been a
very bad year. For you, and everyone else in Pen Arbcllo. But
it's over now." He held out his arms to receive the sleeping
child.
Jack looked once more into the face of his daughter, and kissed
her gently.
"I love you," he whispered. "I always have. I'm so sorry, my
baby. So very sorry."
Then he placed his child in the doctor's arms, and Sarah Conger
was taken away from the house on Conger's Point. As hc watched
the car tnlring his daughter from her home, Jack Conger wondered
if it would, indeed, be all over now. Hc hoped so.
He stood alone in the driving snow and watched the tillights
disappear. Hc raised one hand in a final saiute "Sarah," hc
whispered. And then agalm "Sarah..


A week passed, then two. Port Arbello began to return to normal,
though it was a slightly different normal. Most of the children
returned to walking to school, but some of them kept on riding.
"What happened once could happen again," some of the parents were
saying.
Three days after Sarah walked out of the woods, Carl and Barbara
Stevens put their house on the market. Rose Conger was surprised
when she got the listing for it, and wne it down. She explained
that she was taking some time off to recuperate, but that was
only part of the truth. The rest of it was that she couldn't face
seeing Barbara Ste/ens again.
Marilyn Burton continued to operate her dress shop,  and people
noticed that she Wasl bennlng to talk to herseft. For a while
many of the women in Port Arbello made an effort to drop in on
her as often as possible, but it didn't seem to do any good.
After a while they stopped dropping in, and if Marilyn Burton's
habit became worse, no one knew about it.
Martin Forager did his best to keep the talk alive, but as the
days dragged on and nothing else happened, people began to tell
him to let it be; they'd just as soon forget. He couldn't, of
course, and few nights passed without Mar Forager suddenly
standing up in the tavern and drunkenly demanding that someone
find out what really did happen to his daughter. After a while
people stopped paying attention.
Jimmy Tyler's parents acted as if nothing had hap,


334 JOHNSAUL

pened. They kept his room just as it had been on the day he
disappeared, and always set a place for him at the table. Mrs.
Tyler told everyone that she expected Jimmy home any day now, and
that the waiting was hard. But she also insisted that she was
holding up well under it and it would all be over soon, when
Jimmy came home. The people of Port Arbello clucked
sympathetically, but shook their heads when Mrs. Tyler wasn't
around. They saw another Port Arbello legend in the making.

,For Jack and Rose Conger, the weeks after Sarah left their home
fere difficult. Rose stayed in the house almost all the time;
after the second week she telephoned the Pen Arbello Realty
Company to tell them she would not be back..They were not
surprised; rather, they were relieved. They had been trying to
figure out the most diplomatic way of telling her that her
services would no longer be necessary, that Conger was no Ionget
a name to be proud of in Port Arbello.
Jack Conger couldn't stay at home. He had a paper to ran, and he
had to try to act as ff nothing were wrong. It was impossible, of
course, and he imagined that people were looking at him strangely
even when they weren't. He found that he was spending most of his
time barricaded in his office, talking to no one but Sylvia
Bannister.
Sylvia had come into his office on his first day back at the Port
Arbello Courier and had closed the door firmly behind her.
"Are you going to be all fight?" she had asked him
without preamble.-
"That depends on what you call all. fight," he had
said. "I intend to go on living, and go on working if
that's what you mean."
"I suppose that's what ! meant," Sylvia had Said.
Then she had left his office as abruptly as she had
entered it.

SUFFER THE umLDREN 33S

The Congets told  at h s had y h to  put   fimfio d e h  it ut er
elflon. qu at w d we  out -R w a Hffio d, ey

&ss at day, d ey n lv

h ely NormS, t a mo  S w st  were g me. Jk w
 h t e hto e m d t   e sa de her moor.  Ro lk  to  wh
t ' o yog  at hg ve e m. Rose   at e pie.
"me it's d  m ht e ' yo" Rme m 17h k  her mr ly.
"We e n'"  sd-fiy.  n think e lk8 ing e
Jack   k  d    ut, "You w't h  'o y o,  .   u' old  e  wh at pice
w pt but when you  ht e you lk y e her."
"Ym n e her,"  sd flatly.
"Wo no o d you e, d,'' Ro d. " yo f or yone e ever d w  you lk e
her.
"I n't t to lk  her,  d, h f g sH r
m d I don't wt hlng  do  h. I  you'd e e e do"
e it do' Ro offid we e it do?" She eamin it once more,

III I III II I IIIIII IIIIII III ............... -I


336 om SAUL

trying to see what her daughter could dislike in it. She could
see nothing.
"Because I want you to," Elizabeth said. "I think it should go
back in the attic, where you found it."
"I don't see any reason to put it away," Jack said, "I should
think you'd be proud of it. Not every girl has a portrait like
that of herseft."
"h isn't me," Elizabeth insisted, her angerswelling. Her parents
glanced at each other nervously.
"Well," Jack said, hesitating, "ff it mean. that much to you "
"It does," Elizabeth declared. "I never want to see that picture
again. I hate it." She paused and glared at the picture, at the
little girl who .looked so much like Elizabeth .smiling. down at
her. "I hate you!" Elizabeth sudd lshouted at  picture. Then she_
ran from the study, and a moment laterher parontsheard her
pounding up thestairs to her room. They looked at each other
again, and there was worry in their eyes.
"What do you suppoSe brought-that on?" Jack said. Rose thought
about it a moment, and when she spoke it was in a manner of
thinking out loud.
"She seems to be changing lately. Have you noticed it She isn't
like she used to be. She's starting to get a little sloppy. Just
little thing. And she's started arguing with me. It used to be
that if I asked her to do something she either did .it
immediately-or it Was alsly done. Lately she's started arguing
with .: sply not doing what I  -lodo."'-sh fiat out refusedto do
hing for lVlni.--the otherday. You should have heard Mrs.
'Goodrichln
Jack chuclled. "I have heard Mrs. Godri Thirty years-ago I
.flatly refused to do something she-told me to do. I heard her
then, and it was the 'first and last lime I ever refused to do
anything she asked me to do."
"I suspect it'll be the last time for Elizabeth, too." Rose
smiled. Then her smile faded, and her grew serious again.

' 337

"But, really, Jack, haven't you noticed it too? Or is it just my
imagination?" Rose bit at her lower lip anxiously. "I'm afraid my
imagination works overtime these days."
Jack thought it over and realized that Rose was righL Elizabeth
had been changing, but it wasn't anything serious, as far as he
could see. Elizabeth, .in his opinion, was simply benning to act
like any other thirteen-year-
old girL
"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. After aI she's been
through just as much as we have, and her life's changed just as
much as ours. We can't expect her to be the same as she always
was. You're not and I'm not why should she be?"
"I don't know, really," Rose said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I'm
even worried. In a way, ifs kind of a relid. She was so pedect,
she sometimes made me feel
competent. I could never handle Sarah the way she could."
Jack seemed to stiffen, and Rose realized that it was the first
time either of them had mentioned Sarah in a month. They hadn't
been to visit her yet; it was almost as if they_were trying to
pretend that she'hadn't existed. But she had.

The next day they drove to Ocean Crest, forty miles south of Port
Arbello. It was close enough to make visiting Sarah easy, but far
enough away so thai Port Arbello would be able to feel safe.
Sarah would be there for a very long time.
It was a difficult visit. The child sat in front of them, her
enormous brown eyes fixed on a spot somewhere in space, somewhere
Rose and Jack could not go.
She did not resist when each of them embraced her, nor did she
respond.
"She's always like that"' the nurse explained. "So far she hasn't
responded to anything. She eats, but the food has to be put in
her mouth." When Rose seemed


338 ;o, SAUt.
to be on the' verge of tears, the nurse hastened to explain
"It isn't anything to worry about," she said. "Sarah's had a bad
trauma, and she's reacting to it. She's temporarily withdrawn,
ust as normal people do. Except that she was already so withdrawn
that now she's practicaily shut down. But she'll come out of it.
I'm sure she will."
They made the drive home in silence. When they were in the house
Rose said, "Fix me a drnc; will you? I feel like I need one. I'm
going up to say hello to Elizabeth."
"Kiss her once for me," Jack said. He headed for the study as
Rose disappeared upstairs.
A couple of minutes later, when Rose went into the study, she
found her hushand standing in the middle of the room, staring
at-the empty ptaee on the wall above

'"It's gone," he said. "She put it back in the attic."
Rose stared at the blank space herself then went to the study
door.
"ElizabethF' she called.
"What?" The muffled shout came through indlstinctly from
upstairs. Rose's eyes natrowed, and she went to the foot of the
stairs.
"Come down here," she said sharply.
"In a minute," she heard from upstairs.: "Row!" Rose commanded.
She stalked back to he study. A very long minute later FJi_beth
walked-into the roonL
"You used to knock before you entered a room," Rose pointed out
to her.
"Oh, Mother," Elizabeth protested.
'"Don't whine," Jack said sharply. "It doesn't sound
attractive. Did you take that pictur down?" "What picture?" Eliz
b said evasively.
"You know perfectly wen what snapped. "The one above the,
fireplace."_

 339

"Oh, that," Elizabeth said offhandedly. "I told you I hated it."
"Where did you put it?"
"Back in the attic," Elizabeth said. "That's where it
belongs." Then she marched out of the study. "Well," Jack said,
"I guess that's that."
"I don't know," Rose said. "We certainly don't have to leave the
picture there. It seems to me that if we want to hang our picture
in our study in our house, our daughter is no one to tell us we
can't."
"But if it means so much to her " Jack began.
But Rose cut him off. "It's not that. It's just that she's
starting to act like an only child."
"In a way," Jack said softly, "she is, isn't she?"
The picture of the unknown child stayed in the attic.


BOOK II

The Present


26

Ray Norton drove slowly along the Conger's Point Road, partly
because he was keeping only one eye on the road and partly
because he was getting older, and driving more slowly was a part
of getting older. He would be'retiring next year, and be. was
ready. Port Arbello was changing, and Ray Norton was changing,
and he no longer felt that he was the best chief of police the
town could have. He'd kept t_hig feeli!lg a Secrets but he knew
it was an open secret. As the years had worn on he had turned
more and more of the work d his department over to his deputy
chief. Port Arbello had ten policemen now, and even they weren't
enouglL
Not like the old days, Norton thought as he stoppedthe slowly
cruising car entirely. Everything's changing.
He was parked by the Congets' field,. and .he was watching the
work that was going on in the woods on the far side of the field.
An apahuent' complex was being built there, and though Ray Norton
didn't approve of its even he had to admit that, for what they,
were doing, they were doing a good job. The complex would fit
well on the Points long and low, snug to the ground against the
north winds of winter.
As he watched the building progress it occurred to him that what
he really resented was not the building itself, but the fact that
the building would spell-an end to what had become, for him, an
annual tradition.
Each spring for the past fifteen years Ray Norton had spent
several of his days off searching the woods

344

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for some trace of the three children who had disappeared that
autumn the snow had come early. The first spring he had been
joined by a search party, and they had combed the woods for days,
then moved on to the embanlcrnent, searching for some trace of
the missing children or the entrance to the cave that was
supposed to be hidden there. They had found nothing. Whatever
might have been there had vanished with the snow. They had
continued the search for the cave until one of the searbhers lost
his footing among the rocks and nearly lost his life when he
tumbled to the stony beach below. After that people stopped
showing up for the search. From then on Ray Norton had searched
alone.
He-had never found anything, but the search had be a habit with
him, and each spring he would return toque'-makela careful
search, and then move onto'the "'t;.:d each spring he would find
homing. Welli,'the sear ,. The woods were being torn up, and the
foundation7 o the ent buiMings were being anchoeed to ' emtrnent.
Ray Norton left hii' car and began trudg toward the woods. You
never know, he was thinking. They might turn up something I
missed.
From. the old house at the end of Conger's Point, Hinbeth
Congerwatched the white-haired police chief  his way slowly
across the field. Each spring she had watched him, and each
spring she had asked him what he hoped to find.
"Don't how," he would say. "But I can't just' let it go.
$omething's out there, if something's anywhere..And I'H find it,
if it's there."
She had often wondered exactly what it was h hoped to find, and
what he would do if and when he found it. It would have to be
this year, or it wouM'tbe at all:
She glanced at a clock and saw that she stffi had three hours
before it would be time-to leave for Ocean Crest

Sylvia Bannlster was driving north, and it had not been her
intention to make any stops until she reached Maine. But when she
saw the sign for Port Arbello she turned off. As she drove toward
the town she wondered why.
She had left Port Arbello a year after Sarah's commitment, and
had not been back in the fourteen years since. Now, as she drove
into town, she decided that it was time to take one more look at
her past.
She intended only to drive around the square, but she found
heneft stopping at the offices of the Port ArbeHo Courier. Before
she went in she glanced across at the grim old Armory, still
unchanged from the-old days. So, she thought, Rose never foBowed
through on her project to convert it to a shopping arcade. Just
as well. She pushed open the door to the Courier and knew at once
that Jack Conger was no longer there.
.Everything was changed, and most of the old staff was gone. But
she spotted one familiar face, a face. that looked at her
curiously.
"Miss Bannister?" the penon said, and Sylvia-realized that the
young man had been a copy boy whim she  Now he was an editor.
Things d/d chango.
"I was looking for Mr. Conger," she said . "But I get the feeling
he isn't here any more."
The young man stared at her. "You mean you didn't hearT' he
asked. "He diced. Nine or ten years ago."
"I see," Sylvia said. "What about Mrs. Conger? Does she still
live out on the Point?"
The young editor shook his head. "Only Elizabeth. Mrs. Conger
died the same time that Mr. Conger did.'
He didn't explain, and Sylvia left the office. She almost decided
to leave Port ArheLlo and continue northward, but she changed her
mind. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to see Elizabeth
Conger. She turned her car around and headed out the Conger's
Point Road,
The house hadn't changed, and Sylvia parked her car

I III IIII I II III II I I

346 

in' front of the porch.. She glanced out at 'the woods as she
mounted the steps, and a chill ran through her body as she
wondered what had really happened out them. She noticed the
construction as she rang the bell.
A tall and strikingly beautiful young woman answered the door and
looked at her curiously. From the blond
hair Sylvia Bannister knew at once who it was. "Elizabeth?" she
said.
The young woman nodded. "May I help you?" She thought she knew
the woman from somewhere, but she wasn't sure. And so many
strangers knocked on her door, asking her questions about the
past. Questions she couldn't answer.
"I'm not sure if you'll remember me,' Sylvia said. ,I'm Sylvia
Bannister."
,'Of course," F!izabeth said, opening the door wide. 'Vly fathers 
Please_. come in."
Sylvia glanced around the house as Elizabetl/. led her through to
the back study. Nothing, it appe.ared, had

uldon't know why," Elizabeth was saying, "but we all seem to wind
up living in here. I hardly ever us6 the living room any more,
and Mother's old office is completely closed off."
"I heard about your parents," Sylvia said gently. "I just wanted
to stop by and tell you how sorry I am."
"Don't be," Elizabeth said. "It may sound harsh, but I'm sure
they're h,a.p.ier now."
"Do you mind if I ask you what happened?" Sylvia asked.
"Not at all. It's been almost tenyears since,they!dled, and I
don't mind talking about it any more. And maybe you could answer
some questions. for me. If you don't
"Not at all," Sylvia said. "I'll tell you ,whatever I
The two women sat down, and FIzli71tbeth told Sy!via what had
happened to lack and-Rose Conger:.

347

"It happened about five years after they had to send Sarah to
Ocean Crest," she said. "Just after my eighteenth bLrthday, to be
exact. Of come, wel never know exactly what happened, but Dad
took Mother out s,ailing one day. And they didn't come back.
Everyone samed there had been some kind of an accident, but a
week after it happened the manager of the marina, can't ramember
his name, found all the life preservers from the Sea Otter
stuffed into one of the locken. Since Dad was always careful
about things like that, they decided that it wasn't an accident
after all. Apparently Dad just took Mother out, and sanir the
boat with both of them on it." She paused a. minute. and seemed
to think "I've started to put it all together, I guess. At the
time, of course, it didn't make any seine to me at all. But over
the years I've started to find out moe and more about what must
have been happening to him. I thlnlc I can undentand it now. I
thlnlt it just got to be too much for Dad. Apparently the
town never stopped talking about what happened that fall, and
somehow they- got the idea that Dad was involved. in Anyway, you
know how Port Arbello is. They have long memories, and stories
get worse every time they're old. Toward the end Mother wouldn't
leave the house at all, except if Dad took her on a trip out of
town, and Dad ·.. well, I guess he just got tired of having
people staring at him all the t'nne."
"Why didn't they just leave town?" Sylvia asked. "Why don't I?"
1tlizabeth asked. "I guess for us Congets thin place is home. It
isn't easy giving up everything that's familiar to you. Dad could
never do it, and I can't either. Besides, thero's Sarah to think
about too, you know."
"Sarah?" Sylvia's eyes flickered with interest. "How is

"Much better," Elizabeth said. "As a matter of fact, she's coming
home today, for the first time."
Will she be able to stay?"

348

"Not this time. But eventually, we hope. Not that Ocean Crest is
a bad place to be. Actually, she's very happy there."
"Yes," Sylvia said, "I imagine she is."
"But ve s111, or I should say sh still, has to remember what
happened that day She came out of the woods with that-4hat thing
in her hands. It's the only thing she still can't remember. She
remembers what happened between her and Dad " Elizabeth suddenly
stopped talking, and stared at Sylvia in embarrassment.
"It's all right," Sylvia said. "As a matter of fact, I can
probably tell you more about that incident than Sarah can, even
ff she remembers it."
"Could you?" Elizabeth asked. "I don't know why, but I've always
felt that it was the major cause of what happened to Dad and
Mom."
"It undoubtedly was." Sylvia sighed. "Jack talked a lot about it
to me. We were very close, you know."
Elizabeth nodded. "There's been some gossip. I was never very
sure how much truth there was to it, but I knew More and Dad
weren't getting aiong. Especially after Sarah got sick."
"That was the root of the trouble," Sylvia said. "Jack was never
the same after that terrible day in the woods." She. fell silent
for a minute, then continued.
"We had an aftfair," she said stiffly, her face coloring. "It
didn't last long, only a year. I finally broke it off. I don't
know why, really. I suppose partly because I felt sorry for Rose
and partly because I was afraid of what would happen when it came
to an end. Often, it seems, it's easier to handle endings if you
bring-them on yourself. So I ended the affaiP, and left Port
Arbello. And do you know," she went on, "when I left I-had the
feeling that for Jack, life had ended. I suppose that sounds
conceited, but I don't mean it to be. It didn't have anything to.
do with me. He just seemed tired out. Really, when I think about
it I'm s he held on as long as he did."

349

Elizabeth nodded. "I think he did it for me. I don't think it was
any coincidence that he killed himserf right after my eighteenth
birthday. He waited until I was old enough, and then he just sort
of went away...*'
"It must have been terrible for you," Sylvia said. "It was, at
first. And it still isn't easy. I've had to sell off some of the
land just to support myself and Sarah. I decided to get rid of
the woods. It seemed like they'd been in the family long enough.
I guess I hoped that ff I got rid of them, and that awful
embankment, it would get rid of the legend and the gossip as
well."
"I'm sure it will," SVia said. Then she glanced at her watch.
"Gracious. If I'm go'me to get to where I'm going,-I've got to
get started. Th_ank you for telling me what happened to Jack,
Have I been any help to you at all?"
"Of course,," Elizabeth said. "i'm glad to know my father had
some happiness in his life." Then she too Elanced at the time.
"I'm sorry this has to be such a short visit," she went on. "Come
back and see ine
again?"
Sylvia assured her that she would, but both women knew that they
Wouldn't meet again. lH7beth waved to Sylvia as she drove down
the drive, then glanced once more at her watch. She still had an
hour before it would be time to leave for Ocean Crest. She went
to look in on Mrs. Goodrich.
Though the old housekeeper had never admitted to her true age,
Ji7beth wa$ sure she was well into her eighties. She still lived
in the little room next to the kitchen, and did her best to keep
up the pretense that she was looking after Miss Elizabeth instead
of the other way around brewing fresh ooffce for her each
morning, and managing to put together something that passed for
lunch, though Blizabeth had grown accustomed to waiting for the
old woman to fall-into her

350

afternoon nap and then going to the kitchen to fix something to
fide herself over until dinner.
Elizabeth was worried about Mrs. Goodrich; it wouldn't be much'
longer until the old woman would need full-time care, and
Elizabeth didn't see how she was going to afford it, Unless what
the doctors had told her was true, and Sarah really would be
allowed to come home. She tapped !ighfiy at Mrs. Goodrich's door.
"Is that you, Miz Rose?" the ancient voice quavered. Elizabeth
shook her head a litfie, in. sorrow. More and more lately the old
woman had been mistaking Elizabeth for her mother, and Elizabeth
supposed that it was a sign of increasing senility.
"It's me," she said gently. "Miss Elizabeth." She opened the
door, and the old woman stared at her blankly. Then her mind
seemed to clear, and she smiled tentatively.
',Oh, yes," she said uncertainly, "where's your er?"
"She'll be in later," Elizabeth promi,.xl, knowing that
laterlVhrS. Goodrich would have forgotten that she had asked for
Rose. The first time this had happened, Elizabeth had tried to
explain to the old woman that Rose was dead, and a look of horror
had come over Mrs. Goodrich's face.
"Oh, dear," she had clucked. "Wlat'll'become of poor Mister Jack
now?" Elizabeth had stared at her for a moment before she
realized that the old housekeeper must have forgotten what had
happened. -These days she simply ignored it. She closed the door.
Elinbeth glanced around the kitchen now, and thought she ought to
do the dishes and save Mrs.. Goodrich the effort. Her arthritic
hands  na longer hold on to wet dishes, and she had a hard time
seeing what she was doing. But Elizabeth found she didn't mind
having the role of servant thrust upon ,her. Mrs. GoocLtich had
served her family well for a long time.

 351

The least they could do for her was take care of h in her old
age.
And besides, Elinbeth didn't really have much else to do. Without
being aware'of it, she was becoming more and more like her
mother, sticking close to her home, going into Port Arbello only
when there was shopping to do or errands to be ru It did not
occur to her that, at the age of twenty-eight, she was benning to
behave like a spinster twice her age. Nor did it occur to her
that her lifestyle seemed odd to many people.
Elizabeth Conger was, in actuality,,fairly content with her lot
in life. She had her home, which she loved, and she had her cat,
an ancient Perfian she'd named c after. the one that had
disappeared. Her father had brought the kitten home to her soon
after Sarah had gone to Ocean Crest. The cat was decrepit now,
and needed a great deal of care. Elizabeth had considered having
Cecil put to slep, but hadn't been able to find it in her heart
to do it.
She glanced around the kitchen again and wondered where to start.
Then, just as she had. made up her rniecl to do it, she changed
her rnlncl and decided to go for a

-She looked in on Mrs. Goodrich once more and found the old woman
sound asleep. As she was putring on her coat at the front door,
she felt Cecil rubbing agaln.t her ankle.
"You want to come along too?" she asked the eat "I know you,
though. You'll be perfectly happy Walking
for about ten feet, then you'll want to be carried." The cat
looked up at her and roewed.
"Oh, all fight, come on," Elizabeth said, opening the front door.
The cat hounded out into the bright spring SmHghL
F-lt,abeth, seeing Ray Norton's car still parked on the Po'mt
Road by the field, decided to go over to the woods and watch the
construction. She had avoided the woods for years, until she had
had to walk the property

352

with the real-estate agent she had listed it with.. Even then she
had not felt comfortable about the woods or the embankment. But
now, with the construction work going on and the area bustling
with activity, it had lost its threat, and she found she enjoyed
going there.
She found Ray Norton sitting with his back to a tree, patiently
watching the work
"May I join you?" She smiled.
The old policeman looked up in surprise. "Well, look who's here,"
he said. "Since when are young-Congem allowed to play out here?"
His eyes were twinkling, and Elizabeth laughed soffiy.
"Not that young any more," she said. "And besides, ifs all
different since they Wok over." She made a gesture that
encompassed all the men and machinery around them.
"I-Imph," Norton snorted. "If you ask me, it was better the way
it was."
"I don't how," Elizabeth mused. "i know I shouldn't say it, but
I'm kind of glad it's all happening. For the first time in my
life I feel comfortable l out here." She stared out to sea for a
moment, then spoke again.
"Mr. Norton, do you suppose there ever really was anything out
here?"
"For instance?" Norton countered.
"Oh, the cave, I suppose. I lmow you've been searching for it for
years, and you've never found it, but you think it's here
somewhere, don't you?"
'"I don't how," the old man said. "For a long time I didn't
believe it was here, then I did believe it. Now I don't know what
I think. I guess when you get to be my age that's normal. At
least I ,hope it is, because it's the way I am."
"Will you be coming back?" Elizabeth asked him,
"I mean, when all this building is done.and there are people
living here. Wffi you still come out P. ac, h spring
to look around?"
Norton shook his head. '"I doubt it..For one thing,

353

Il' be retired by this time next year. And for another, this
place just won't be the same. If I don't find what I'm looking
for this year, I won't find it."
Elizabeth stood up and patted the old man on the back.
"You'll find it," she reassured him. "Whatever it is, ff it's
here you'll find it." She glanced at her watch. "I've got to get
going," she said. Norton looked at her curiously.
"Sarah's coming home today," she explained. "Just for a visit, to
see how it goes. But itl be the first time in fifteen years." She
paused, then winked at Norton. "And I didn't even clean up the
kitchen," she added. '"I thought it would be hornier that way."
She turned and started back through the woods, picldng her way
carefully through the brambles. Twice she caught her foot. She'd
be glad when it was all cleared away.
The old pOllcemn watched her until she had disappeared into the
trees, then turned his attention back to the workmen.
So she's coming home, he thought. Well, that's. nice. If he was
going to find anything after all these years, he was going to
find it today. He made himself comfortable and kept on watching.
It was all right; he didn't have anything better to do. When he
thought about it Ray Norton realized that he hadn't had anything
better to do for fifteen years.
Three hours later, as Ray Norton looked on, one of the p'de
drivers setting the foundations for the apartment complex broke
through the roof of the upper cavern. The light of day shined
dimly down on the gates d hell

27

Ocean Crest Institute, which had dropped the word "Mental" from
its name several years ago, sprawled over twenty-five acres of
woods and. lawns on a bluff above the Atlantic. It looked as much
like a.resort hotel as its management could make it, and it was
able to keep its costs within reason only through the grace of an
enormous endowment that had accumulated over the years from the
bequests of wealthy families grateful for the care and discretion
that Ocean Crest had. shown their members whose eccentricities
had gone beyond the harmless. No bars marred the view from the
windows of Ocean Crest; instead, bulletproof glass had been
installed in the units that housed those patients deemed W be
dangerous. Sarah Conger had lived in one of those' units for four
years, never knowing that she could not have left by one of the
windows. She had never tried. Residents of Ocean Crest rarely
tried to leave; if they ever wandered off, it was usually through
confusion, not a desire to escape.
After the first four years Sarah Conger had been moved out of the
security. unit and into a small house that she shared with three
other adolescent girls and a housemother. An outsider, not
knowing that all the girls were victims of mental disorders,
would have thought them only unusually quiet. There were rarely
any outbursts of any kind from the girls. Rather, they lived as
close to a normal life as Ocean Crest could make for them. The
director, Dr. Lawrence FeldinE, was totally

356

committed to the idea that the mentally ill need "asylum," not
treatment. If you want someone to be normal, Dr. Felding
maintained, you have to treat him as though he is. People, he had
discovered, tend to live up to nonverbal expectations much more
readily then to stated orders.
On the other hend, Dr.' Felding sa to it that very little at
Oceen Crest was left to chance. What he had done was develop a
level of planned spontaneity that seemed to work for his
patients. Often residents of Oceen Crest were surprised to
discover that a friend known for months, or even years, whom they
had always assumed to be another.resident, was a psychiatrist.
The doctors of Ocean Crest happily conducted therapy over card
games, picnics, and "thence" meetings in lounges.
It was only when residents were being considered for discharge
that formal meetings were held with dotors. And aft fifteen years
at Oceen Crest, Sarah Congerwas staxing to have formal meetings
with her doctors.
"How does it feel to be going home?" LarryI Felding was asking
her.
Sarah lit a cigarette nervously and shook the match out before
answering. "It doesn't feel like going home at all," she said.
"I've spent more then half my life here. This is home."
Larry Felding laughed easily. "Careful If you say that in the
wrong place, people will say you're getfig 'mstitutionalized."
Sarah grinned at him, and Larry 'Folding remembered all the years
when Sarah Conger had never grinned, had simply sat mutely
staring out at the sea, her face expressionless. Her silence had 
complete for three years, and it had been enother five before she
had begun to speak in complete sentences. When she had been at
Ocean Crest for ten years she finally smiled,- end it was then
that Felding had .begun. to be hopeful that she would eventually
recover. For the last year or so it had

SUFFER THB CHILDREN 357

been rare that Sarah Conger was not grinning. Her good humor
faded now only when someone tried to talk to her about the events
'that had occurred just before she had come to Ocean Crest. Then
her grin would fade, and she would become uncomfortable. She
could not remember what had happened. Larry Felding was sorry
that he was going to have to kill that grin now, but he didn't
see any way out of it.
"While you're at home, Sarah," he said, "I went you to try to
remember."
"Remember?" Sarah said, the grin predictably 'fading. "Remember
what?" Felding looked at her over the top. of his half glasses,
and Sarah squirmed. "All right," she said. "I know what you're
talking about and'I won't pretend I don't. And I know I have to
remember all.of it." Then her smile sneaked back onto her face.
"Of course," she said slyly, "if I don't remember, I can't be
discharged, cen I?"
"No," Felding replied, exnmlning his tingemails. "But I could
always kick you out for malingering, couldn't I?"
"Not you," Sarah said complacenfly. "You couldn't kick a squirrel
out of here." Then she turned serious again. "I think I'm afraid
to remember, Larry. I really think that's what it is."
"Bully for you," Felding commented. "After fifteen years you've
finally discovered that we don't face what we're afraid to face.
Shall I put that on your chart?" Then he leaned forward and the
benter left his voice. "Of course you're afraid, Sarah. When you
do remember, it's not going to be pleasent. In fact, I'm afraid
it's going to be very unpleasent. But you won't remember all of
it at once. It'll come back to you in bits and pieces, like the
day in the woods with your father. You won't have to face it all
at once. But you have to face it. Otherwise we won't ever be able
to call you well,' whatever that means. So while you're at home I
went you to t to remember what happened."
"All right," Sarah said reluctantly. "I'll try. But I'm

358

not go'rag to promi anything. Is there anything special I should
do? Anything that might help to jog my mem-
Felding shrugged. "Who knows? You might try waadering around in
the woods or the field:"
'fhe woods are being torn down," Sarah said. "Elizabeth had to
sell them off to keep this place going, remember?" Her infectious
grin was back, and Larry Felding decided not to disturb it again.
He sighed in mock embarrassment.
"I how," he said. "But I have to pay for my RollsRoyces some
way." He stared out the window at the battered Chevy that was
technically his, but which everyone at Ocean Crest used-as a sort
of public tradsportation system. He saw another car pulling into
the slot next to his.
"Spewing of Elizabeth, here she is., Are you ready?" "Il go get
my bag;" Sarah said, standing up. "I suppose you'll want to have
your usual private chat with the mily."
"You've been here too long," Felding said sourly. "You're
catching on to how thia place workS." Sarah winled at him; and he
smiled back at her. 'fell beth to come in, will you?"
kay. How loug shall I take to get my bag? The usual tell
mnute,q'F"
"Get out of herel" Felding cried, and Sarah fled, gigSHug to
herself. She met l.abeth in the hall
"Hi," she said. "Larry wants to talk to you, but I th'mk I iust
upset him_ Go in and clm him down." Still laughing, she left the
building and started across the lawn to the house she had been
living in for the last five years.
Elizabeth tapped lightly on the open door and stuck her head
inside. Felding's eyes were tWlnilfng when he looked at her.
"Come in," he said, waving. "I just kicked your sister out."

 359

"She said she'd upset you. What happened?" Elizabeth wasn't sure
whether she should be concerned. When Felding laughed, she
relaxed.
"Sometimes I almost wish for the old days when she didn't say
anything at all. She takes a very strange pleasure in neerlHng
me. Was she like that when she was a child?"
"From the day she was born. She was sassy, but she was happy. It
made it all the harder when she got sick. She was so different
all of a sudden." She was silent for a moment, remembering. Then
she shook off the memory and met Dr. Felding's eyes. "Sarah said
you wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes. I always like to have a little chat with a reddent's family
before they go home for the first time, To prepare them for
anythin that might hap-n."
"And something might happen with Sarah?" Elinbeth asked
anxiously.
"I don't how." Dr. Felding was frank: "It all pends, really, on
Sarah."
"Sarah? I don't understand."
"I've asked her to do somethln5 while she's home," Felding
explained. "I've told her that I want her to use the time to try
to remember what happened that day she walked out of the woods."
"I see," Elizabeth said noncommittally. "Is there
_anything you'd like me to do?" 'Ouly if you want to."
"If it'll help Sarah, I'll do anyfhlng,n Elizabeth said
earnestly. "You know that."
"Well, you don't need to sound so serious. I don't have anything
terrible in mind. Tell me, is the house much different from when
Sarah left?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "That house hasn't changed much in
generations, let alone years." Then her expression clouded over a
little. "Except for Sarah's room," she said, half apologetically.
"Mother painted it and got rid of all of Sarah's thingS."


360

Felding's face fell a little. "What dO you mean when you say 'got
rid of?" he asked.
"If it's important," Elizabeth reassured him, "theytre all still
there. In our family 'get rid of means put in the attic. I'm sure
all of Sarah's things are up there. Is it important?"
'"It's hard to say. It could be. What I'd like you to do is go
through* all of Sarah's old things with ,her. Make an adventure
out of it."
"It would be." Elizabeth smiled. "I haven't been up in-that attic
in years. In fact, I'm not sure I've been up there since Sarah
came here." She thought for a moment. "Once, maybe, but that's
all."
"Then it should be fun," Felding said.-'"Who knows what you'll
find up there. And 'something might jog Sarah's mmory."
"I feel sorry for her, in a-way. That was a terrible day. I don't
remember too much about it royserf. lust seeing Sarah across the
field, all covered with " She fell silent, as ff forcing the
memory from her mind. "Well," she said shortly, "anyway, I feel
sorry-for her. I suppose she *does have to remember it all, but
it seems a shame, after .11 those yeirs, dign .it up

'"I know," Feldin said gently. "But it has to be done,"
He heard feet in the hall outside and gl-at clock. Exactly ten
minutes. Sarah was back.

"It looks b' the same," Sarah said as Blinbeth turned into the
long driveway that led to the:house. "Only smaller. I remembered
it as being much bigger than it is."
"They say that always happens with a house you only remember as a
child. The house doesn't get' mailer, but you get bigger. The
result is the same. You don't feel bigger, so things must have
gotten smaller."
She parked the car in the garage, and they began

361

walking to the- house. Without realizing it, Elizabeth had
adopted her father's old custom of using only the front door, and
she headed in that direction now.
"Just 'like Father," Sarah commented. When Elizabeth looked at
her curiously, Sarah went on. "Don't you remember? He would never
use any door except the front door. It was practically a
ceremony."
"I'd forgotten, I guess," lli7abeth confessed. stYoil really
remember that?"
"Oh, I remember practically everything now, even during that year
before I went to Ocean Crest. Except for the last few weeks.
There are some fuzzy patches, and I can't seem to get through the
fog. And I'm not sure I want to. I suppose Larry told you."
"Do you call all the doctors at Ocean Crest by their first names?
Or is Dr. Felding special?"
Sarah laughed. "He's not special, except in the way all the
people at Ocean Crest are special. We call all of them by their
first name Don't forget, I didn't even know Larry was a doctor
during the first years. I just thought he was another nut."
An expression of cousternatioa crossed 's
face. "How can you talk that wayS' she said. "What way?"
"Referring to yourself and everyoae else at Ocean Crest as a
nut?"
"Sorry," Sarah said. "I forgot. I usually don't say that in front
of outsiders. It seems to bother them, like it bothered you. But
it doesn't bother us," she said serenely. "We think nut' is a
much better word than 'paranoid schizophrenic' or 'tannic
depressive.' It sounds so much more humann"
"I'll never get used to that place," Elizabeth said. "But it
seems to work, so I guess ies all right."
"Why don't you check in?" Sarah suggested lightly. "Who knows? If
you try real hard, maybe you can be crazy too. But it's not
easy," she added, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "It
takes a lot of energy

362

to be the way I was for so long. Maybe I was just-too tired to
talk."
"L'dco Mm Goodrich," Elizabeth said, feeling a sudden desire to
change the subject.. It was a lot easier for
Sarah to talk about her illness than it was for her. "How is
she?" Sarah asked.
"As well as can be expected, considering her age," Elizabeth
replied. "She might not know who you are, and she might say some
strange things. I just wanted to warn you."
'"Fm used to people saying strange things," Sarah said, her grin
lighting her face. "Lead me to her."
FAizabeth unlocked the door, and they stepped into the entry hall
"Just the same," Sarah said. "Just like I remember it:" She moved
from room to room, taking in everything. "You haven't changed
anything, have you. Don't you get bored with it?"
"Bored with' it?" Elizabeth repeated. "Why should

'"I don't know. I should think you'd want a change now and then,
that's-all."
For some reon Elizabeth suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable. '"I
ppose I'm my father's daughter," she said,-a 11tfi stiffly. "He
never wanted things to change either."
'"I hope you're not completely your father's daughter," Sarah
remarked. "If you are, I don't think I want to go to the woods
with you."
Elizabeth felt her stomach knot, and looked at her sister with
horror. ;'How can you say such a thing, Sarah?"
Sarah's  faded, and she looked into Elinbeth's eyes. "I thinlc
we'd better have a little talk, Elizabeth," she said. "I can wait
to see Mrs. Goodrich. Where's a good place?"
"The back study," FAinbeth said. "I use it more than any other
room in the house." She led the way, feeRug

363

uneasy about what Sarah might have to say to her. She decided to
fix herself a drink.
"Fix me one, too?" Sarah asked her, and when Elizabeth looked at
her strangely, Sarah went on, "We drink at Ocean Crest, too."
She sat down and waited until Elizabeth handed her a glass and
took a chair opposite her.
"Look, Elizabeth," she said. "I know you thought I said a
horrible thing when I made that crack. But you have to understand
some things about me. I know what happened out in the woocls; and
I know it was a horrible thing that Dad did to me. But it's over.
I mean, it's really over. I've been through it all the pain, the
anger, the resentment, everything. And yes, I joke about it now.
For a long time that incident with Father was the end of my life.
But it isn't any more. It's over with, and in the past. It's like
it happened to someone else, and ff I ioke about it I guess it's
just one of the tools I use to deal with it. My kidding about it
can't hurt Dad; he's dead. And there isn't any reason that .it
should hurt you, either."
"It just seems so so " i7abeth groped for the right word, and
couldn't find it.
'"Macabre?" Sarah suggested. '"I suppose it is, but believe me,
it's better for me to joke about it than sit in s'fienee and
brood on it. So let me be myself, all right?" She smiled, and
Elizabeth returned the silo uncertainly.

Elizabeth and Sarah returned to the Httle study after dinner,
where they sat sipping brandy and ejoying the fire.
"Do I really look like MotherS" Sarah asked suddenly. Mrs.
Goodrich had insisted on calling Sarah "Miz Rose" even after
El;xzabeth had explained that it was not Rose but Sarah, home for
a visit. Mrs. Goodrich had remained uneonvincedI-
"Quite a bit, really," Elizabeth said. Then an idea



occurred to her. "You know, all of Mom and Dad's old photo albums
are up iu the attic. Why dou't we go up there and find some
pictures Of Mother when she was your age? Maybe the resemblance
is greater than I can see. d we can dig out all the toys we had
when we were kids."
"I detect the fine hand of Larry Felding at work," Sarah
.chuckled. "But I'll give you credit. You did that very well. And
I suppose I can't put it off forever. Let's go up. Maybe
something will jog my memory."
The two women went up to the door that blocked the stairs to the
attic and found it locked.
"I hope we don't have to break it down," Elizabeth said. "I
haven't been up here in years, and I don't have any idea where
the key is."
Sarah suddenly reached up and ran her fingers along the ledge
above the door. A moment later she had put the key in the lock
and the door was open.
"How did you know about that?" Elizabeth said curiously.
"Icertainly didn't know there was a key up there."
"I don't how," Sarah said with a shnig. "I suppose I must have
seen someone put it up there years ago, or something. Who cares?
Let's see what's up there." She reached for the light switch and
started up the stairs.
"Well, for heaven's sake," she said when they were in the attic.
"Will you look at thaL"
"At what?" Elizabeth said. It ust looked like an attic to her,
and she didn't see anything odd about it.
"That comer," Sarah said, pointing. "It's so clean. Attics are
supposed to be dusty."
It was true. In one corner, where an old picture was propped
facing the wall, there was no dust anywhere, not even on the
floor.
"That is odd, isn't it?" EHzabeth said. "I can't imagine this old
place is so tight. There must not be any vents in that SpoL"

365

qrou don't suppose Mrs. Goodrich comes up here to clean, do you?"
Sarah said.
Elin shook her head. "She hasn't been upstairs in years. Anyway,
why would she clean just one corner7 Well," she went on,
shrugging the mystery away, "Lets get to it, shall we?"
They started going through the attic, and found a box marked
'Sarah."
"Here it is," Elizabeth said triumphantly. "Prepare to face your
past." Sarah touched the box ;reluctantly, as if it might be hot. 
she 'seemed to get a grip on

"No time like the preseut," she aud, opened the box. Inside was a
unble of clothing, Children's books, itnd toys. She lifted each
item out, and they all seemed familiar to her. She reco_Zn_ized
some of the clothes as having been byerites, and held others up
in

"Ugh," she said. "Remember this?" It was a brown scarf, and Sarah
was holding it by two fingers. "I used to hate wearing thia, it
was so itchy. Why do you' sul>posm Mother didn't just throw it
any'/"
"It wasn't Mother," giabet said. "It was Dad who insisted on
keeping everytiring I think the whole history d the Congers is
probably 'up here somewhere."
Sarah snorted. 'v'ith the history we have, yon'd flmink they'd
have wanted to bury it, not store it," she said. "Isn't there
supposed to be some sort of cux on us or

gi7abeth looked at her sister curiously. '"I didn't know you knew
about that," she said slowly.
"Oh, sure," Sarah said. "Didn't you know'/It's all written up in
my records, frost at White Oaks, then at Ocean CresL What
nonsense. Secret caves and everything."
"Ray Norton's still looking," Elinbeth said.
"Ray Norton?. 'Sarah said, without-any particular interest.
"Who's he?.

366

"The chief of police. Every year he comes ont liere, searching
around in the woods and the embankment."
"Well," Sarah said, '"I wish. he'd find something. Then maybe I
could remember those last few weeks and get on with it." She
reached into the bottom of the box "What's this?"
She held up-a doll, one arm of which was brolren off at the
shoulder. It was an odd doll, old-fashioncd, and dressed in a
blue dress with ruffles down the front and around the heln. On
its head, framing the Ifaded porcel face, was a tiny bonnet?
"I don' remember this," Sarah said. "Where do you suppose it came
from?"
Elizabeth examined it carefully, und an odd feering came over
her. Then she realized that it was the right arm that was
mi.e-sing. Fifteen years ago it had been a child's right arm that
Sarah had dragged across the field from the woods.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said, quickly putting the doll down.
"I've never seen it before either."
She heard the doorbell sound two floors below, and fert a strange
sense of relief at being called out of the attic. She didn't know
why, but the doll had affected her more than she thought it
should have.
Who could that be?" she said. Then, when Sarah started to rise,
she spolre again. 'Tll get it," she said. "Why don't you see if
you can find the doll's other arm? It looks terrible without it."
Elizabeth left the attic and hurried down' the. air She paused
before she opened the door. "Who is it?" she called.
"Ray Norton," a voice came bact to her.
Elizabeth opened the door and-let the police chief in. As soon as
she saw his face she knew some. thing was wrong. The blood had
drained out of it, and there was a strange look in his eyes.
"What is it?" she said. "Has something happened?" "Is Sarah with
you?" Norton asked.



'"She's upstairs," P_beth replied. "We've been poking around the
attic. WhatJs happened?"
"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you," Norton said. "Can we
go into the study?"
"Of course," Elizabeth said. "Shall I call Sarah?" '"No," Norton
said. "I'd like to talk to you alone."
'"All fight," Elizabethsaid: "Go ahead. I just want to nm up and
tell Sarah Fll be a while. W'fil it take long?"
"NO." The old pOliceman' shook his head and staxted down the hall
- A minute later |izabeth joined him in the sttidy and
closed the door behind' her.
'"You've found something, haven't you?" she said. "In the woods."
"We found something," Norton agreed. "But it wssn't in the woods.
The construction workers broke through the roof of the cave
today.''
'I'ho cave?'' l.!i said blanldy. "You mean th6 cave in the
legend? But I thought we all thought it didn't exist."
'"I know," Norton said gently. "But it turns out'it does exist."
'"Was was there anything in if/'
Norton nodded mutely; then, after a pause during which. he seemed
.to be trying to decide how much to tell her, he spoke.
"I know Sarah was supposed to be here for a couple of days, but
you'd better take her back to the hospital in the morning," he
said.
"Tomorrow morning?" i7abeth said. '"Why? What did you find?"
'"A mess," Norton said. ',ere were four skeletons in the cave,
and the remnins of a dead cat as well. We've already identified
three of the skeletons. All three of the kids that disappeared
fifteen years ago. And Jimmy Tyler's skeleton was missing a right
arm."
"You said four skeletons," Elizabeth said soffiy. '"Who is the
fourth?"

368

"We don't how," Norton said. "It appears to be much older tlfan
th other three. All we know so far
is that it was another child, probably a girl." "I see,"
Elizabeth said.
"Anyway," Norton said uncomfortably, "for now we're keeping it
quiet. But by tomorrow afternoon the word will be out, and thi.
place will be crawling with people. Reporters, photographers,
thrill-seekers. The whole works. And I don't think you'd want
Sarah subjected to all thaL"
"No," Flizabeth said shortly. She paused and her eyes met those
of the police chief.
'"Mr. Norton," she said. '"What's going to happen?" "I don't
how," Norton replied. '"I11 lmow better tomorrow, when I've had a
chance to t to the coroner and the district attorney." He stood
up nervously, wanting to leave. "You'll excuse me if I don't
stay,'' he said. "I really shouldn't have come at all, but I knew
Sarah was here, and I just wanted to..." He trailed off, unsure
of what else to say.
"I how," Elizabeth said. "And I appreciate it Thankn for coming
ouL"
She accompanied him to thO front door and watched until she saw
the tights of his car fade away down the driveway. Then she
supped the porch light off and slowly climbed the stairs up to
the attic.
As she climbed, she tried to think wha( she was going to tell
Sara.

28

Sarah slept restlessly that night, and woke several time. It
didn't seem fair that she. would have to go back to Ocean Crest
in the mornin. but she supposed that Elizabeth was right and she
shouldn't stay in the house with only Mrs. Goodrich. Not that she
thought anything would happen, but still, slg wasn't used to
being on h'er own, and Ocean Crest had agreed to let her come
only because Elizabeth would be with her all the time. And now
Elizabeth had to go out of town for the day. She punched at her
pillow and tried to go back to sleep.
When she first heard the noises from over her head, Sarah Was
sure she was iminin theIn. When they persisted, she began
listenin Someone, she was sure, was moving around in the attic,
She got out of bed and slipped. into her robe, then went to
Elizabeth's room, The bed was rumpled but empty, Sara went to the
attic stsirs and listened. Movement, Silence, then more movement.
She started to go up to see what was going on, then changed her
mlnd. Instead she returned to her room, but left the door
slightly ajar. She sat on the edge of her bed and lit a
cigarette. The cigarette was nlmost fini.hed when she heard the
sound of footsteps comln,, down, She went to her bedroom door and
peeked out, Elizabeth was coming otlt of the attic, Sarah watched
her close the attic door and return the key to its place on the
ledge above it, Then Elizabeth returned to her

370

own room and closed the door. The house was silent, and Sarah
returned to her bed.
When she came down the next morning, Elizabeth was waiting for
her in the dining room. There was a pot of coffee and a plato of
blueberry mneqn., FJizabeth miled.
'This is nice, isn't it?" she said. "I hardly ever use the dining
room any more. I seem to rattle around in it by myself. But this
takes me back. Coffee?"
Sarah nodded and sat down. She stirred at her coffee. 'qhat were
yon up to 'last night?" she asked suddenly.
lJi7abeth looked at her in surprise. "Last night? Nothing. I just
went to bed. Why?"
Sarah decided not to confront her sister with what she had seen
the night before. Apparently Elizabeth didn't want to admit to
having been in the attic.
"I don't know," Sarah said, shrugghg. her shoulders a little. "I
ust thought I heard sometin.v in the attic. I thought maybe it
was you." She watched her sister carefully, looking for something
that would tell her Blizabeth was holding back information. But
Blizabeth

"In the attic71I didn't hear anything. But then, I sleep like a
log. What time was it?"
"I don't know. Late. One or two, I suppose. I couldn't deep, so I
was smoking a cigarette. I could have sworn I heard someone
moving around up there. She grinned at -liTabeth. "I thought
maybe it was you, still looking for the missing arm."
"Well, it wasn't me," Elizabeth said. "Unless-I've stared
sleepwalng. Did yon take 'a look?"
"No. I decided not to. Attics in the middle of the night aren't
my cup of tea." She buttered a mntin and ate it. "I wish I didn't
have to go. back this morninS"

A cloud seemed to cross FJ;,beth's face. sorry too," she said
abruptly. "But it just can't be helped. There's some legal thing
that's come up, and I

371

have to attend to it today. Apparently they can't continue with
the construction till it's taken care of."
Elizabeth had decided to come as close to the truth as possible,
without telling Sarah of the discovery of the cave the previo
day. "I suppose we ought to get started pretty soon," she said.
They fini.hed breakfast in silence.

Dr. Lawrence Felding watched the two women park the car next to
his and slipped the file on his desk into the t.op drawer. He put
on an expression of surprise as Sarah and EHzabeth entered his
office.
"What are you doing here?" he saicL "Have I lost a day?"
Disappointment was apparent in Sarah's dark eyes, but she tried
to keep her voice light.
"I got kicked out," she said. "Actually, something came up and
Ji7abeth has to be out of Wwn for the day. So here I am."
Felding put on his best puzzled expression. ,'Wv"ny don't you go
get rid of your suitcase, and I'll have a. chat with your
sister," he said.
'l'he tlsual ten minuteS?" Sarah asked.
"Give me twenty, so I can get all the details." Felding grinned.
The grin disap.pr. ared as Sarah left his office.
"Sit down," he said to Elizabeth. "I had a call this morning from
the police chief in Port Arbello. Herton?"
"Norton," Elizabeth corrected him. "Ray NortoiL He came out to
see me last night. I guess you weren't surprised when we drove
up, then."
"No," Felding said. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."
"Bad news?" Elizabeth repeated.
"Norton discussed the whole mess with the district attorney up
there. He wants to prosecute"
"Prosecute?" Elizabeth enunciated the word as if she'd never
heard it before.
"TheD.A. seems to think he call build a case against

372 

Sarah. It seems they've been storing that arm all these years,
and it fits .one of the bodies they found?
· "Jimmy Tyler's," Elizabeth said softly. "I was afraid of thaL
When Mr. Norton told me about it last night I assumed that must
be whose ann she brought out of the woods that day. But it never
occurred to me that ..they'd still have it." She looked up, her
eyes appenling to Felding for some reassurance. '"But I still
don't see I mean, everybody knows that Sarah was was " She
faltered, not wanting to say the word.
"Insane?" Felding finished for her. "Of come they do. And, of
course, that will be the plea if they try her, and there isn't a
chance in the world that she won't be found innocent on grounds
of insanity. But they say they have to go through the motions, in
order to. close the case."
"But vhat good wilt it do?' Rnheth flared. "It won't bring those
children back to life, and it wont help Sarah. My God, ifll be
awlul for herr'
· 'I know," Larry FebllnE said uncomfortably. "But I don't see
any way to avoid it. If she hadn't made so much progress over the
years there wouldn't be any trial. She'd be judged unfit to
stand. But, unfortunately, she isn't. Right now she's of pretty
sound mind.:'
"Bxcept she still can't remember what happened that day," i?abeth
pointed out. "How can they try her for somethlnE she can't even
remember?"
'"Well, there isn't muchwe can do about it. What we have to do
now is tell her."
"Tell her?" Elizabeth breathed. It hadn't occurred to her that
Sarah would have to be 'told, but of course she would. Elizabeth
tried to get used to the idea. · "When?" she asked.
'"I think now," Felding said. '"It's going to be-all over the
papers by thin afternoon, and she's going to know then. anyway. I
thought it might help ff you were here when I Wld her." He nmfled
and added, "You know, it might just .jolt her into remembering
what

373

happened..It might turn out that she didn't have anything to do
with it."
Elizabeth chewed her lip. "That's true, isn't it? God, wouldn't
that be wonderful?"
A few minutes later Sarah came back to Dr. Felding's office.
"I'm glad you waited," she said to Elizabeth. "I was afraid you
might leave without saying good-bye." Then she noticed the
stra'med looks on both Elizabeth's and Dr. Felding's faces, and
she ssnk into a chair.
"Somethinl;'s wrong, isn't it?" she said, her eyes flashing from
one to the other. "You didn't have to go out of town Wday, did
you, Elizabeffi?" Sarah looked at her sister accusingly. "Well,
what is it?" she cried. "Please, tell me what's happened."
Larry Felding told her what had happened. What had been found in
the cave, and what was going to happen in the days to come. As
she listened, the blood drained from Sarah's face.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing, The cave was real.
Four bodies. One of them with an arm missing, A dead cat. A
knife.
The blood. The blood and the mud.
She began remembering, and she felt her mind nning to go numb.
Images flashed before her: Stumbling across the field in the
middie of the nighL Following someone. Who was she following?
Creeping through/he woods, trying to keep up with the fleeting
shadow ahead of her.
Rocks. Slippery rocks. Her ankle was twisting. She couldn't'
catch up. She tried, but then the shadow disappeared.'
Darkness, and a closed-in place. And then a beam of light shining
in the darkness. And rope, there was rope. What was the rope for?

374 

And sounds. Children's voices. Cursing, yelling.
A shaft. She seemed to be looking into a shaft, and tkere was
rEht. Light was flickering ot somhlng. But what?
A !rnffe. She saw a knife flashing in the yellow light.
And then a face looked up at her. A face. Whose face?
Sremelllbered,
Pain flashed through Sarah's head, and she raised her hands to
her temples. She looked wildly around the room. The face was
there, there in the room with her. Her sister.
"Elizabeth " she cried. "li7abeth..." And then another-. name
came to her, a name she had heard in the darkness. "Jizabeth,"
she cried again, her voice rising in a iek. Then "Eliza... beth.
Beth.t BetM"
And then something snapped in Sarah's mind, and her hands fell
limply to her lap. The color slowly returned to her face, but
there was no expression. Her eyes the eyes that had become so
expressive, daucing merrily in the impish face -had gone vacant.

"Sarah?"
FJizabeth said the word softly, tentatively. She reached out
to-her sister, but there was no response. Sarah sat quietly, and
the vacant eyes peered almost sightlessly from the expressionless
face. "Sarah?" Elizabeth said agaim
Dr. Felding roused himself. It had happened so fast. He should
have been ready with a hypodermic needle and a sedative. But it
shouldn't have happened so fast. It should have been gradual,
should have come back to her slowly, in pieces. But it had all
erashed in on her, and she hadn't been ready for it. She hadn't
been able to handle it. Sarah Conger's mind had closed. down
again. He wasn't sure-why, but he knew that for Sarah it was ovr.
The past had locked her in its grip again. He looked helplessly
at i7abeth.

37S

"I',m sorry," he said. "My God, Fm sorry."
'Wrhat happened?" Elizabeth faltere&-"What's happened to her?
She's all right, isn't she?" There was a note of desperation in
her. voice, and Felding-pressccl a button under his desk that
would signal a nurse to come in with a sedative.
"She's all right," he said soothingly..She remembered, that's
all. It all came baclc to her."
"But," Elizabeth stammered, "but look at her... she's -she looks
like she used to..." Elinbcth began, softly crying as She
realized what had happened. Her sister was gone again: and tlvi
time she might never be back.

It wasn't until late that afternoon that they let beth go home,
and even then Dr. Felding insisted on driving her. They were
followed by someone else from Ocean Crest, who would bring the
doctor back.
"I don't thlnic we could have stopped it," Folding was saying.
'fit was too fast. She just caved im I don't know what to tell
you."
Elinbeth felt numb. She kept hearing Sarah's voice calliWg her
name. "Elizabeth... Elizabeth..." And then that other name. Beth.
Beth. Somethi-g stirred deep inside of her.
"She loved you very much," she heard Felding saying now. "That's
why she was c'a||inZ you at the end. She wanted you to help her."
He reached over and parted li7heth's hand, and wasn't surprised
when she withdrew it. They were in the Conger driveway now.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Felding asked gently.
Elizabeth shook her head. "No," she said, "but thnnlr you. I'll
he all right Really I wilL"
Reluctantly Felding let her get out of the car alone, and watched
her until she disappeared into the house. Then he parked the car,
and got into his own as it pulled'up behind Elizabeth's. He
glanced at the house

3
once more, then drove away. One day, he thought, the past will
let go and Sara will be fxee;

lHbeth sat in front of the fireptace,:staring at'the blank space
'above the mantel The name ket rnnning through her mind.
Beth.

Sara hadn't been Calling for help. She had been accusing. But
whom had she been accusing? Elizabeth struggled with her mind,
feeling there was something she should remember. Had there been
somebody in the attic last night? Had Sarah really heard
something? She decided to go up and look around.
In the attic she found herself drawn to one of the far corners, a
comer she hadn't beenin for year The corner where the old
portrait lay.
Elizabeth picked up the portrait and leaned it agaln one of the
rafters of the sloping roof. She looked at it md couldn't
remember why it was that she hadwanted it taken. out of the
study. The child was so pretty, all dressed in blue, with ruffles
down 'the fixrot and .around e hem. And a little bonnet' perched
on the head, only parfly covering the blond hair that cascaded
over her shoulders. Elizabeth decided to take it back downstairs
and g it in the study. Then she glanced at the spot where it had
lain, and she saw the doll-the doll with the missing arm. It was
propped up on what looked like an old book, and the book seemed
to be familiar; Sh decided to take all three things down to the
study.
She carefully hung the portrait over the mantel, adjusted it to
be sure it was straight, then stood back to sdrnlre it. It was
right, she knew. It belonged there.
She propped the doll on one of the chairs, the strange
old-fashioned doll. Then she noticed that the doll was dressed
the same way as the girl in the picture. It must have been her
doll, Elizabeth thought. Beth's doll.
lliabeth seated herself in the wing-back chair, Beth's

377

doll, she repeated to herself. Why had she thought that?Was\ that
the name of the girl in' the portrait, the girl who looked so
much' like herself? -
She picked up the old book and opened iL Somewhere, on the edges
of her memory, she thought she had seen it before.I A long time
ago.
It was a diary, handwritten on lined, yellowed paper, and the
writing was that of a child. The words were carefully formed in a
clear, old-fashioned hand that bore the odd look of a young
person practi. eing penrni!l. ship. Much of it was faded and
illegible, but Elizabeth
could make out pieces of iL He keeps looking at me.
He was watching me today. He watches me when 1 play in the field.
My father tried to hurt me today.
I wish he'd go away. I wish my father would go away. Mother wants
hm to go away too.
He tried to hurt me again tody. Why does Daddy want to hurt me?
There was more, but Elizabeth couldn't make it out. She turned
the pages of the old diary slowly, then closed it. She reopened
it at the front and reread inscription on the first page. It was
written in a strong hand, a masculine hand, and it had not faded.
The initials under it were the same as her father's: J.C. The
diary must have been given to the litfie girl by her father.
She set the diary aside and stared up at the portraiL It was-your
diary, she thought. It was yours, wasn't it?
Cecil, her anoient cat, came into the room then, and nn7..led
against her leg. She took him into her lap. She stroked the old
cat' for a long time and continued to' stare up at the portrait.
Late in the evening, FJizabeth stood up. 'She glanced at the
broken doll one more time; then, carrying Cecil, she walked to
the kitchen. She opened the knife drawer and took out the largest
of the knives. Without bether-

378

ing to shut the drawer again, she went back to the study and
stared mutely a the portrait.
"All right," she said at last. "All right."
Cradling the cat against her bosom with one hand and
lCdrting the kle 9vth the other, TJi7-,qbeth Conger
waJked slowly out of the house.
She stazted across the field, towa:d the forest and the
embankment beyond. As she walked through the night, the odd
inscription in the diary ran through her mind over and over:
Sager the Children, it had read, to Come Unto Me. Elinbeth Conger
was answering the slimmoils.