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Authors: John Bellairs
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comets vanish? How could an invisible wall keep them out of their house? Clutching his arms to his sides, he shuddered and closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw the professor brushing grass off his pants. When the professor saw that Johnny was staring at him, he straightened up and pushed his glasses straight on his nose.
"Well, that was something, wasn't it?" he snorted, as he looked around. "Byron, are you all right?"
Fergie was standing nearby. He seemed stunned, but when he spoke, his voice was clear and reassuring. "I guess so, Prof," he said as he ran his hands over his arms. "No bones broken, but . . . hey, what do you think happened? I mean, comets don't just go out, do they?"
The professor shook his head firmly. "No, they assuredly do not! You can be sure that astronomers all over the world will be having a field day with this one! But come, gentlemen! Let us see if we can get into our house."
Stepping forward, the professor groped with his hands, but he felt nothingânothing but air. Beckoning to the boys, he led the way up the walk to the wide pillared porch. But when he jerked open the front door and turned on the hall light, he got a rude surprise. The house looked as if a whirlwind had passed through it. Pictures had fallen off the walls, and the coat tree had fallen on its face. Mirrors were shattered, and table lamps had been flung about. The professor stalked from room to room with the boys close behind him, and they all stared in disbelief at the mess in every part of the house.
"Lord preserve us!" sighed the professor, as he paused to catch his breath. "I'll bet the creep who did this has a red beefy face and a waxed mustache. Boys, will you come with me to the tower room?"
Johnny and Fergie glanced quickly at each other. They felt scared, but they also felt angry and determined.
"We're with you, Prof!" said Fergie loudly. "Lead on!"
Without another word the professor led the way up the main staircase, along the upstairs hall, and up the narrow, creaky flight of steps that mounted to the tower room. The three of them paused for a long time outside the stout paneled door, but at last the professor summoned up his courage and stepped forward. Shoving the door open, he groped for the light switch and flipped it on. After a brief hesitation the boys followed the professor inside, and they glanced curiously around at the ugly deserted room. All was still, and an unpleasant burnt smell hung in the air. The professor looked around, and then with a muttered curse he rushed to the fireplace. Standing up on tiptoe and gripping the mantel with his fingers, he peered hard at the metal disk that covered the stovepipe hole in the chimney. With amazement the professor saw that the pretty painted scene of trees and flowers had been scraped away, and now it was clear that the disk was not made of metal at allâit was transparent, like window glass! With a sudden lunge the professor rose up on tiptoe and banged on the disk with his fist. Something fell onto the fireplace hearth with a loud hollow clack! "By God!" said the professor. Fergie and Johnny gasped. Between the brass andirons lay a charred human skull with long black hair.
In an instant the professor was on his knees. He reached into the fireplace, grabbed the skull, and held it up for the boys to see. A wild light was in his eyes.
"This is it!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he tapped one of the hollow eye sockets with his finger. "A dead eye in a room with no view! That evil mustached wretch was here tonight, trying to work black magic. And I think he almost succeeded!"
Johnny and Fergie were stunned. What on earth was the professor saying?
"IâI don't quite get you, Prof," said Fergie with a quick, nervous glance at Johnny. "What do you mean?"
The professor pulled himself to his feet. The grisly charred skull was still in his hands. "I mean," he said quietly, "that a magic ritual was performed here, and I think that it had something to
"Well, that was something, wasn't it?" he snorted, as he looked around. "Byron, are you all right?"
Fergie was standing nearby. He seemed stunned, but when he spoke, his voice was clear and reassuring. "I guess so, Prof," he said as he ran his hands over his arms. "No bones broken, but . . . hey, what do you think happened? I mean, comets don't just go out, do they?"
The professor shook his head firmly. "No, they assuredly do not! You can be sure that astronomers all over the world will be having a field day with this one! But come, gentlemen! Let us see if we can get into our house."
Stepping forward, the professor groped with his hands, but he felt nothingânothing but air. Beckoning to the boys, he led the way up the walk to the wide pillared porch. But when he jerked open the front door and turned on the hall light, he got a rude surprise. The house looked as if a whirlwind had passed through it. Pictures had fallen off the walls, and the coat tree had fallen on its face. Mirrors were shattered, and table lamps had been flung about. The professor stalked from room to room with the boys close behind him, and they all stared in disbelief at the mess in every part of the house.
"Lord preserve us!" sighed the professor, as he paused to catch his breath. "I'll bet the creep who did this has a red beefy face and a waxed mustache. Boys, will you come with me to the tower room?"
Johnny and Fergie glanced quickly at each other. They felt scared, but they also felt angry and determined.
"We're with you, Prof!" said Fergie loudly. "Lead on!"
Without another word the professor led the way up the main staircase, along the upstairs hall, and up the narrow, creaky flight of steps that mounted to the tower room. The three of them paused for a long time outside the stout paneled door, but at last the professor summoned up his courage and stepped forward. Shoving the door open, he groped for the light switch and flipped it on. After a brief hesitation the boys followed the professor inside, and they glanced curiously around at the ugly deserted room. All was still, and an unpleasant burnt smell hung in the air. The professor looked around, and then with a muttered curse he rushed to the fireplace. Standing up on tiptoe and gripping the mantel with his fingers, he peered hard at the metal disk that covered the stovepipe hole in the chimney. With amazement the professor saw that the pretty painted scene of trees and flowers had been scraped away, and now it was clear that the disk was not made of metal at allâit was transparent, like window glass! With a sudden lunge the professor rose up on tiptoe and banged on the disk with his fist. Something fell onto the fireplace hearth with a loud hollow clack! "By God!" said the professor. Fergie and Johnny gasped. Between the brass andirons lay a charred human skull with long black hair.
In an instant the professor was on his knees. He reached into the fireplace, grabbed the skull, and held it up for the boys to see. A wild light was in his eyes.
"This is it!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he tapped one of the hollow eye sockets with his finger. "A dead eye in a room with no view! That evil mustached wretch was here tonight, trying to work black magic. And I think he almost succeeded!"
Johnny and Fergie were stunned. What on earth was the professor saying?
"IâI don't quite get you, Prof," said Fergie with a quick, nervous glance at Johnny. "What do you mean?"
The professor pulled himself to his feet. The grisly charred skull was still in his hands. "I mean," he said quietly, "that a magic ritual was performed here, and I think that it had something to
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