Something curious was happening at the old Bligh house. There had been many comings and goings of workmen in the weeks that Edna had been gone. The heavy iron fence with its spears had been uprooted and taken apart in sections. Along its outline, a deep and narrow trench was dug. We kids were on watch every second we could spare.
At last, the queerest thing of all took place right in front of our eyes. A truckload of stone slabs and red brick arrived, followed by a cement mixer. Into the trench, stone and cement were laid, and, over several days, a brick wall some eight feet in height and a foot thick took form. It surrounded the house completely, save for a heavy oaken door, which was domed at its top and framed and buttressed with black iron. When the wall was done, the old fence of spears was installed upon its top. The men and machinery finally left, late on a foggy and cold afternoon.
Edna had not been idle during that time. It had been quite a while since she had paid a visit to old Verna, the woman who had mentored her in something more than dressmaking. Verna was another confirmed spinster who had lived, with minimal help, in the house of her birth, and was now alone. Twenty years Edna’s senior, she had often looked after Edna and Herman when their parents had been otherwise occupied. Verna was delighted to see her, in spite of the circumstances, and insisted that Edna stay with her awhile. And so, from Verna’s home, Edna made arrangements to have Herman’s old office repaired and secured, once the Police had quit the premises.
She also learned and partook in things that might give you and I a chilly feeling up the back of our spines.
To be concluded….