The Mansion in the Mist Read Online Free PDF Page A

clenched teeth. "He had doubts about our work from the beginning, and that should have convinced me that he was not to be trusted. If I ever catch him, he will wish that he had not been born."
    On and on went this strange conference, while Anthony crouched by the peephole, listening breathlessly. What on earth was going on? What was this place? Who were these people, and what was their grand design? And what could the Logos Cube be? These questions went whirling around in Anthony's head, but he didn't have any answers. And now, as the speakers droned on, Anthony began to be afraid. What if he got caught? Slowly he turned himself around in the narrow passageway and began crawling along the uneven carpeted floor. Around one turn he went, and around another, as the voices faded into the background. Finally Anthony was back at the stone door, which still stood ajar. With a sigh of relief, he stepped out into the chilly night air. He had gotten away! Quickly Anthony glanced around. He half expected to see dark shapes rushing at him from behind bushes and trees. But no one came. Cautiously Anthony began to move over the mossy ground. He noticed that the murky light had gotten brighter. What did this mean? Nothing, probably. He walked past the edge of the strange overgrown garden and began to hear rustling noises. Looking fearfully to his right, Anthony saw that the tangled vines were writhing and squirming again. And an awful high-pitched wailing sound began. Louder and louder it grew, and to his horror Anthony saw figures running toward him from the shadows near the mansion.
    For an instant Anthony stood rooted to the spot, and then he ran. Faster and faster, feet slapping the ground, he pelted on till he reached the chest, which still stood at the edge of the forest. The wailing went on, and Anthony heard harsh barking shouts. By now Anthony was scared half out of his mind, and his fingers fumbled madly with the rough splintery lid. It seemed to take forever, but he finally got it open, and he clambered awkwardly inside. What was the phrase? What was the phrase? Running footsteps pounded closer as Anthony racked his brain. He had just heard the phrase a second or two ago. It was... it was...
    At last it came: Auro est locus in quo conflatur. He shouted it loudly into the night and ducked as the heavy lid came slamming down. Once more the bottom dropped out of the chest, and the wild sickening fall to safety began.

CHAPTER FIVE
    When Anthony climbed out of the chest again he was in the dark, empty bedroom in the large, creaky old cottage. Rain still rattled on the window, and thunder rumbled endlessly. With shaking hands Anthony lowered the lid of the chest and stumbled out into the hall. Lightning rushed back and forth over the warped boards, and it lit the stern faces of the people who stared down from their gilded frames on the wall. Anthony felt dizzy and sick to his stomach, like someone who has been thrown into a giant Mixmaster. What had he seen? Blearily he looked around, and he felt a tremendous desire to sleep. He could hardly keep his eyes open, but somehow he dragged himself down the hall to his bedroom.
    With an exhausted sigh, he heaved himself onto the bed and was asleep in a few seconds.
    Days passed. Miss Eells and Emerson noticed that a change had come over Anthony, and it worried them. He didn't say much, and his mind always seemed to be somewhere else. At mealtime the two older people would ask him questions, but all they got were one-word answers. Sometimes in the evening, when Emerson and Miss Eells came in from fishing, they would find Anthony sitting silently on the porch of the cottage, listening to music on the radio. All this strange hermitlike behavior was scary, and it began to look as if Anthony was suffering from some form of mental illness. Miss Eells was beginning to get panicky, but as usual Emerson remained calm. He was determined to get to the bottom of the whole business, and he didn't believe