Manchester House Read Online Free PDF Page A

to state. “Expect me after a few days.”
    Now came the gauntlet.
    “Professor,” Wells stated, tightly grabbing onto the telephone’s receiver. “I warn you that no one on the Town Council or Police Department will be able to offer any help. In fact, they have no idea that I’m doing this, sir. You will, by all accounts, be on your own.”
    “I understand, Mr. Wells,” Holzer confirmed. “I understand.”
    The two men continued their talking. Holzer was cordial and proud of the fact that Wells’ daughter was now attending George Washington University, obtaining a degree in the biological sciences. This, Wells stated, was due in no small part to Holzer’s influence. After an hour, both men said their good-byes and hung up. Holzer was to investigate the opportunity of a lifetime; Wells to help solve an unlovable caseload.
    Alone, fighting the silence of his office, Wells turned his attentions toward Mallia’s journal.
    The soiled book was nothing to look at. The kind of artificially bound, leather-looking scrapbook one would find at any ordinary bookstore. The pages appeared to have been well read, and had been wet at one time or another. This was obvious by the uneven way the pages had set in the boundaries of the book itself. Upon opening the journal, Wells’ senses were bombarded by the aroma of mildew.
    Mallia was a prolific writer, talking in a wide range of subjects. Mostly he centered on Manchester House.
    Wells started to take it all in, reading.

    Saturday, October 15&.
    I have finally confronted a form in the house. SHE is here. In my research, I have come across a very interesting fact: William Manchester, the famous railroad tycoon of the late nineteenth century, once asked a young girl to travel from Boston to be his wife. It was a common practice of the day. At the National Archives in Washington DC, I was able to obtain a “Wife Contract” that was drawn up between Mr. Manchester and this woman-her name was lost on the paper, and to history. There is some loose proof that she arrived in Atchison to take her place at Mr. Manchester’s side, but little else. Years later, when asked, William Manchester knew nothing of the matter-to him it never happened. Was this figure, this specter, Manchester House’s lost bride? She seems to be at the focus of the images I have already encountered and fought in my time as owner of this great house.
    Since my birth, I have always had the power of foresight. My grandmother used to say that I was a “Ghost Seer.” An earthbound soul who had the power to grant lost souls rest. I will try to break through, using what abilities I have, to help put her to rest.
    The Wedding Bells are ringing for the house’s “lost bride” and I will help bring her home&.

    Tuesday, October 18&
    Bad business here. I am starting to see demons coming from the walls. I fear that my ignorant intrusion into all this activity has angered an evil power filled with a need to inflict its revenge upon the world of man. I will have to stop her.
    I hear her coming up the stairs. The stairs are her domain. Do not go in the basement. Must stay up in the light. I have placed the signs on the floor. I will&..

    With that, the journal stopped in mid-sentence.
    Wells closed the book.
    The detective lit up a cigarette.
    “Lt. Wells, we’re closing up now.”
    Wells looked up, catching a glimpse of the same patrolman he had talked with at Manchester House. The detective was surprised to know that another police officer had remained behind at the station, putting his notes in order, before heading off for home. It did his heart good to realize that he was not the only person upset with the bizarre facts encountered during his last visit to Manchester House.
    “What is it about this job that keeps good men like us away from our loved ones?” Wells asked the young man.
    “My wife asks the same question, sir.” The young man smiled, waving his hand, leaving.
    Wells turned off the light to his