"We've just got to! When the
Luck hangs there again, we--"
"Won't have anything left to worry about," Val finished for her. "But
that's a very big order, m'lady. Short of catching Rick's ghost and
forcing him to disclose the place where he hid it, I don't see how we're
going to do it."
"But we are going to," she answered confidently. "I know we are!"
"A good thing," Rupert broke in, a hint of soberness beneath the
lightness of his tone as he looked about the almost bare room and then
at the strained pallor of Val's thin face. "The Ralestones have been
luckless too long. And now suppose we take possession of this commodious
mansion. I suggest that we get settled as soon as possible. I don't like
the looks of the western sky. We're probably going to have a storm."
"What about the car?" Val asked as his brother turned to go.
"Harrison used the old carriage house as a garage. I'll run it in there.
You and Ricky better do a spot of exploring and see about beds and food.
I don't know how you feel," he went on grimly, "but after last night I
want something softer than a dozen rocks to sleep on."
"I told you not to stop at that tourist place," began Ricky smugly. "I
said--"
"You said that a house painted that shade of green made you slightly
ill. But you didn't say anything about beds," Val reminded her as he
shed his coat and hung it on the newel-post.
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