The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

voices—that only he could hear.
    “What is it?” Di asked. “What’s he doing?”
    Mr. Gregory, seated on the other side of the fireplace, put a finger against his lips. “Hush, my dear,” he said softly. “Mr. Hunter is not only a psychic investigator, but he’s also a medium himself. He communicates with the spirit world. And he’s promised me he’ll try to get in touch with Sarah’s spirit, in order to try to turn her away from her evil purposes—whatever they may be.”
    Trixie was fascinated. “Now?” she couldn’t resist asking. “Is he going to do it now?”
    Honey gripped her arm, warning her to be quiet, then watched as Mr. Hunter turned, as if irresistibly drawn, to the doorway leading to that small study where the witch had died so many years before.
    Trixie heard Fay gasp as, with a sudden movement that startled his watchers, Mr. Hunter flung open the study door.
    She was entirely unprepared for the strange, startling events that happened next.
    A blast of cold air rushed toward them. It brushed their staring faces with icy fingers. A tall vase on the mantlepiece swayed, then crashed to the floor and smashed into fragments. The thin drapes at the tall windows bellied inward toward the room’s startled occupants.
    Mr. Hunter flung back his head, threw his arms wide, as if in welcome, and cried, “Sarah Sligo, if this is your spirit, I command you to tell me. Speak!”
    At once, all movement stopped. Then, in the stillness, someone laughed.

The Eavesdropper ● 13

    THE GIRLS SAT, as if frozen, until that terrible laughter died away. Then there was silence.
    Mr. Hunter turned toward his stunned audience. “It’s all right,” he said. “Please don’t be afraid. I had to find out, you see. I needed to know if the vengeful spirit really was Sarah’s ghost. And now we know.”
    Mr. Gregory looked shaken as he got to his feet. “And is it?”
    Trixie wasn’t surprised when Mr. Hunter answered grimly, “It is. And now all we have to do is to find out how to get rid of her.”
    “But can you do that?” Trixie burst out. “Is it possible to exorcise someone who’s been dead for years and years?”
    For a moment, the psychic investigator didn’t answer. Then he looked at Fay and said gently, “That depends on how much our young friend here is willing to help.”
    Fay sat pale and shaken. She stared down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. “Yes,” she said at last, “I’ll help you. I—I can’t live with this fear anymore.” She looked at Trixie. “I don’t want to be a channel for a spirit. I’ve got to get rid of Sarah once and for all.”
    Honey looked as shaken as Fay. Trixie guessed that the past few minutes had frightened her a great deal. She was glad to see, though, that Honey was doing her best to hide her feelings.
    “We understand,” Honey told Fay, leaning forward to pat her hand, “and if you need any help, we’ll be right here with you.”
    “Sure we will,” Trixie added warmly and waited for Di to add her assurances to theirs.
    To her surprise, Di said nothing. Then, when Trixie turned her head to look, she noticed that Di wasn’t even there. She had moved quietly to the study door and was gazing curiously around the little room.
    “Di?” Trixie called.
    Di had already taken several steps into the study, but now she retreated hastily. “I just had to see where the witch died,” she confessed. “I’m sorry. I was listening, though, honestly. And of course I’ll help you, Fay.” She smiled. “You’ll soon learn that our motto is ‘all for one and one for all.’ Well, if it isn’t, it should be.”
    Mr. Hunter looked pleased, as if things were working out the way he’d hoped. He rubbed his hands together. “Thank you, girls,” he said. “You won’t regret this, I’m sure. And now that we have this settled, all I need to know now is exactly what the circumstances were surrounding our entity’s death.”
    Trixie was startled. “You mean you don’t know?” Mr. Hunter settled himself back into his chair. “I know what Lew Gregory has told me,” he said, “but perhaps it would be as well if I heard yet another version from someone who’s lived here for a long time.”
    “That’s Trixie,” Honey said, still looking as if she wished they could leave.
    Trixie repeated the story of Sarah Sligo, while once more her audience listened quietly.
    When she had finished, Mr. Hunter stirred in his seat. “And you say she