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Well, I never!” muttered the professor as he stepped through the doorway. “If I were the owner of this place, I would fire the people who are in charge of locking up at night. Lets just have a brief little stroll around and then go back to the hotel for the night. Okay?” Fergie nodded, and he followed the professor down the gravel drive toward the mansion. It was twilight now, and they could not see much without their flashlights. Slowly they moved forward, and the only sound was the crunching of their shoes on the gravel. As Fergie walked along, an odd thought popped into his head: Somebody left the door open on purpose. Somebody wanted us to come in. This was a silly thought, and normally it would have made Fergie laugh. But he didn’t laugh. Instead, he glanced nervously at the vast, shadowy church. What if a figure stepped out of the dark and moved toward them? What would they do? It was not a pleasant thought, and Fergie tried hard to put it out of his mind.
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