The Spook Lights Affair Read Free

thin fabric of her gown, started her shivering. The girl must be mad to have come out here dressed as she was. Yes, and she herself must be mad as well to be pursuing her in the same coatless state. But there was no turning back now, not until she found out where Virginia was bound in such a hurry. Some sort of rendezvous with Lucas Whiffing, possibly, but why hadn’t she taken the time to bundle up before leaving the house?
    Fog-laden wind rushed at Sabina as she crossed the front terrace, and one of her hairpins was blown loose and brushed her cheek as it was flung away. Brine and eucalyptus scents filled her nostrils. In the distance she could hear the roar of the sea as it crashed on the rocks below the Cliff House construction site.
    Groves of trees—mainly wind-sculpted cypress interspersed with eucalyptus and palms—covered the vast property. The gardens and other open spaces were dotted with statuary. She dodged past one of the statues, a Greek goddess with stone tresses and draped gown like a figure frozen in time. Adolph Sutro was said to have a fascination with these lifeless creations; in addition to mythological figures, two huge stone lions stood beside the arched gate to the grounds and the main carriageway was lined with stags, does, fawns, and other wild creatures. Sabina didn’t understand it. To her, such statues were cold as the grave, particularly on nights like this. Memento mori—reminders of the fate that awaits all.
    The grounds were lit by flickering torches that had been spaced at intervals along the carriageway and close to the large fountain in its center loop; others illuminated some of the larger statues. Servants must have filled the torches with kerosene for the party, for their flames flickered high—yellow, orange, blue, green. Their light created an eerie, glowing effect on the tendrils of mist that swirled among the trees, and allowed Sabina to keep Virginia in sight as she gave chase. The young ninny was now almost into the shadows cast by the copse of eucalyptus.
    Someone called out—one of the coach drivers, three of whom were standing together at the edge of the carriageway. Neither Virginia nor Sabina paid any attention to the call. The damp, uneven ground caused Sabina to slip and stumble, once to nearly lose her balance. She considered kicking off her—Callie’s—little formal slippers, but that would do more harm than good. Running in her stockings might make her footing more sure, but it would also send fresh chills and shivers through her body and allow wind-strewn eucalyptus pods and pine cones to bite into the soles of her feet. Barely in time, she saw and sidestepped a gopher hole. Even Adolph Sutro’s gardeners couldn’t defeat the ubiquitous California gophers.
    Ahead, Virginia cast another look over her shoulder just before vanishing among the eucalyptus, but she was out of sight only for as long as it took Sabina to reach the trees. Then she saw the girl on the cinder pathway, passing a fog-draped structure she recognized as the gazebo with peaked roof, ornate posts, and fancywork that Sutro had reportedly imported from France. Virginia’s destination now seemed clear: the broad, semicircular sea-view overlook that rose high behind the house, on which summer parties were held and which contained a water tower, observation platform, and enclosed photograph gallery. Where Lucas Whiffing waited? There didn’t seem to be any other reason why the girl would have taken such a circuitous route to the overlook, instead of going there directly across the rear terrace.
    The fog was thicker here, great moist coils of it that obscured the treetops and the upper edges of the parapet, and the distant pounding of the sea louder. The Potato Patch foghorn off Point Lobos bellowed mournfully. The hard cinders bit into Sabina’s chilled feet; the slippers and her stockings were no doubt damaged beyond repair. Callie’s gown, too, probably. She was so cold and wet now that a