said. "I would never have thought him genuinely interested in these matters."
"He's an old man," Barrett said. "He's thinking about dying, and wants to believe it isn't the end."
"It isn't, of course."
Barrett smiled.
"You look familiar," Edith said to Florence. "Why is that?"
"I used to be an actress years ago. Television mostly, an occasional film. My acting name was Florence Michaels."
Edith nodded.
Florence looked at Barrett, then at Fischer. "Well, this is exciting," she said. "To work with two such giants. How can that house not fall before us?"
"Why is it called Hell House?" Edith asked.
"Because its owner, Emeric Belasco, created a private hell there," Barrett told her.
"Is he supposed to be the one who haunts the house?"
"Among many," Florence said. "The phenomena are too complex to be the work of one surviving spirit. It's obviously a case of multiple haunting."
"Let's just say there's something there," said Barrett.
Florence smiled. "Agreed."
"Will you get rid of it with your machine?" asked Edith.
Florence and Fischer looked at Barrett. "I'll explain it presently," he said.
They all looked toward the windows as the car angled downward. "We're almost there," Barrett said. He looked at Edith. "The house is in the Matawaskie Valley."
All of them gazed at the hill-ringed valley lying ahead, its floor obscured by fog. Fischer stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray, blowing out smoke. Looking forward again, he winced. "We're going in."
The car was suddenly immersed in greenish mist. Its speed was decreased by the driver, and they saw him leaning forward, peering through the windshield. After several moments he switched on the fog lights and wipers.
"How could anyone want to build a house in such a place?" asked Florence.
"This was sunshine to Belasco," Fischer said.
They all stared through the windows at the curling fog. It was as though they rode inside a submarine, slowly navigating downward through a sea of curdled milk. At various moments, trees or bushes or boulder formations would appear beside the car, then disappear. The only sound was the hum of the engine.
At last the car was braked. They all looked forward to see the other Cadillac in front of them. There was a faint sound as its door was closed. Then the figure of Deutsch's representative loomed from the mist. Barrett depressed a button, and the window by his side slid down. He grimaced at the fetid odor of the mist.
The man leaned over. "We're at the turnoff," he said. "Your chauffeur is going into Caribou Falls with us, so one of you will have to drive to the house-it's just a little way. The telephone has been connected, the electricity is on, and your rooms are ready." He glanced at the floor. "The food in that basket should see you through the afternoon. Supper will be delivered at six. Any questions?"
"Will we need a key for the front door?" Barrett asked.
"No, it's unlocked."
"Get one anyway," Fischer said.
Barrett looked at him, then back at the man. "Perhaps we'd better."
The man withdrew a ring of keys from his overcoat pocket and disconnected one of them, handing it to Barrett. "Anything else?"
"We'll phone if there is."
The man smiled briefly. "Good-bye, then," he said. He turned away.
"I trust he meant au revoir ," said Edith.
Barrett smiled as he raised the window.
"I'll drive," Fischer said. He clambered over the seat and got in front. Starting the motor, he turned left onto the rutted blacktop road.
Edith drew in sudden breath. "I wish I knew what to expect."
Fischer answered without looking back. "Expect anything," he said.
12/21 – 11:47 A.M.
For the past five minutes Fischer had been inching the Cadillac along the narrow, fog-bound road. Now he braked and stopped the engine. "We're here." he said. He wrenched up the door handle and ducked outside, buttoning his Navy pea coat.
Edith turned as Lionel opened the door beside him. She waited as he struggled out, then edged across the seat after him. She
"He's an old man," Barrett said. "He's thinking about dying, and wants to believe it isn't the end."
"It isn't, of course."
Barrett smiled.
"You look familiar," Edith said to Florence. "Why is that?"
"I used to be an actress years ago. Television mostly, an occasional film. My acting name was Florence Michaels."
Edith nodded.
Florence looked at Barrett, then at Fischer. "Well, this is exciting," she said. "To work with two such giants. How can that house not fall before us?"
"Why is it called Hell House?" Edith asked.
"Because its owner, Emeric Belasco, created a private hell there," Barrett told her.
"Is he supposed to be the one who haunts the house?"
"Among many," Florence said. "The phenomena are too complex to be the work of one surviving spirit. It's obviously a case of multiple haunting."
"Let's just say there's something there," said Barrett.
Florence smiled. "Agreed."
"Will you get rid of it with your machine?" asked Edith.
Florence and Fischer looked at Barrett. "I'll explain it presently," he said.
They all looked toward the windows as the car angled downward. "We're almost there," Barrett said. He looked at Edith. "The house is in the Matawaskie Valley."
All of them gazed at the hill-ringed valley lying ahead, its floor obscured by fog. Fischer stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray, blowing out smoke. Looking forward again, he winced. "We're going in."
The car was suddenly immersed in greenish mist. Its speed was decreased by the driver, and they saw him leaning forward, peering through the windshield. After several moments he switched on the fog lights and wipers.
"How could anyone want to build a house in such a place?" asked Florence.
"This was sunshine to Belasco," Fischer said.
They all stared through the windows at the curling fog. It was as though they rode inside a submarine, slowly navigating downward through a sea of curdled milk. At various moments, trees or bushes or boulder formations would appear beside the car, then disappear. The only sound was the hum of the engine.
At last the car was braked. They all looked forward to see the other Cadillac in front of them. There was a faint sound as its door was closed. Then the figure of Deutsch's representative loomed from the mist. Barrett depressed a button, and the window by his side slid down. He grimaced at the fetid odor of the mist.
The man leaned over. "We're at the turnoff," he said. "Your chauffeur is going into Caribou Falls with us, so one of you will have to drive to the house-it's just a little way. The telephone has been connected, the electricity is on, and your rooms are ready." He glanced at the floor. "The food in that basket should see you through the afternoon. Supper will be delivered at six. Any questions?"
"Will we need a key for the front door?" Barrett asked.
"No, it's unlocked."
"Get one anyway," Fischer said.
Barrett looked at him, then back at the man. "Perhaps we'd better."
The man withdrew a ring of keys from his overcoat pocket and disconnected one of them, handing it to Barrett. "Anything else?"
"We'll phone if there is."
The man smiled briefly. "Good-bye, then," he said. He turned away.
"I trust he meant au revoir ," said Edith.
Barrett smiled as he raised the window.
"I'll drive," Fischer said. He clambered over the seat and got in front. Starting the motor, he turned left onto the rutted blacktop road.
Edith drew in sudden breath. "I wish I knew what to expect."
Fischer answered without looking back. "Expect anything," he said.
12/21 – 11:47 A.M.
For the past five minutes Fischer had been inching the Cadillac along the narrow, fog-bound road. Now he braked and stopped the engine. "We're here." he said. He wrenched up the door handle and ducked outside, buttoning his Navy pea coat.
Edith turned as Lionel opened the door beside him. She waited as he struggled out, then edged across the seat after him. She
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