A Family Affair: A Novel of Horror Read Online Free Page B

of relief. Of course, she chided herself for her stupidity. He was a servant that her aunt had sent out to watch for her. After all, they did know she was coming, they were expecting her, and she was considerably later than she had indicated in her letter. They had grown concerned, which was nice to realize, and had sent this man out to see if anything had happened to her.
    â€œOh, thank Heaven,” she said aloud. “I had all but given up hope of ever finding the place.”
    â€œShe thought you might need some help. People coming from outside can’t see the place without help,” he said.
    â€œIt must be very isolated,” she said, thinking his remark strange. But the trees around her were very high and thick, and she could well understand that a house would be difficult to spy if it were shielded from the road.
    The man had stopped directly in front of her, studying her intently but with no sign of either pleasure or displeasure at what he saw.
    â€œAre you Mr. Kelsey?” Jennifer asked. He did not act very much like a servant. She had not, as it were, had much experience in such matters, but he did not act as she would expect a servant to act; not even, she thought fleetingly, as she had acted toward her mother.
    The man chuckled, a fact which Jennifer regarded as rude. There was not, so far as she could see, anything humorous in her question.
    He grew abruptly sober. “No,” he said. “Mrs. Kelsey did him in a long time ago.”
    What exactly did one say to such a comment, Jennifer wondered? He was a strange one, that was for sure. Under any other circumstances, she would probably have brought him down a peg or two. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place to take exception with his manners. He was not Mr. Kelsey, but he might be a relative, or a friend of the family; or he might, after all, prove to be a servant, and a very rude one. Whatever he was, she promised herself, she would inform her aunt of his peculiar remarks and his rather rude manner. It was hardly what ought to be due a guest who had just arrived, and was in addition a stranger here.
    Since he had made no attempt to indicate the way, she asked, “Is it far to Kelsey House?” She had spent quite enough time on this silly road for one night, and was eager now to be at her destination.
    â€œNo, we’ll take the path,” he said. “Save some time.” He turned and started toward the woods.
    She had seen no sign of a path, and her first thought was that he was somehow mistaken. But when she looked in the direction that he was going, sure enough she saw a break in the denseness of trees and shrubs. There was no question that it was a path, quite a well used one, leading sharply off from the road. It was strange that she had not noticed it before; but then, she reminded herself, she had not really been looking for a path so much as for some sign of the house itself—a mailbox, perhaps, or the sight of lights burning in the distance. Those things were still not in evidence.
    â€œOh, I say,” she called after him, suddenly remembering how she happened to be walking along here, and not driving her car. “I left my luggage back in the car. It stalled back there in the stream. I wonder if you would mind getting it out for me?”
    â€œYour car?” he asked rather skeptically, pausing without looking back.
    â€œOh, no, I meant the luggage. It’s in the car.” What an annoyingly dense creature he was.
    â€œWhat’s in it?” he asked, still without turning.
    The man was not only dense, but impertinent as well. “In my luggage? Why, my clothes of course,” she answered, restraining herself with an effort.
    His answer was unintelligible to her, little more than a grunt, and he started off again toward the woods. She opened her mouth to insist and then closed it again. Alone, in the middle of the night and the middle of nowhere, she was not really