There was an eerie silence inside the house，as

though something terrible had happened there．

Helen Tempest，feeling the goose pimples rise

on her arms，rubbed them vigorously with her

nanos and st00cl hugging nerselt． The silence was broken by the two children

who suddenly rushed indoors from their

inspection of the garden．They were followed

by their father．a broad smile on his face．

‘Like it?’he asked Helen．．

‘WreU there’S nothing actually wrong．．．’

Bringing up the rear of the procession，which

had trooped in from the garden．the estate

agent carefully closed the front door．

‘There’S nothing wrong with it at a11．Mrs

Tempest．It’S in excellent condition．The

previ’ous owners，the Beckets， were

professional people．’

While he was enumerating the many

accomplishments，professional and personal，of

the former owners，Helen continued to rub her

hands up and down her arms puzzled and

disturbed about her reaction to a perfectly

ordinary detached house some thirty years old。

It formed part of an estate built on top of a

hill not far from the 5 Dorset village of Tip

Hollow．