The House That Vanished

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SHEETS of rain were sweeping with blinding downpour as the small coupe sloshed through the midnight blackness. The glare of headlights was drowned amid the deluge. Two men, the driver and the passenger beside him, were straining as they watched the road ahead.

“Ten yards is as far as I can see,” remarked the driver, in a tense tone. “But I’m keeping up to twenty miles an hour. The sooner we’re through with this, the better. How about it, Fred?”

“You’re the driver, Jay,” replied the passenger. “You pick the speed you want. You’re lucky that you can see ten yards. I can’t even spot the road through this side of the windshield.”

“The wiper’s a big help,” stated Jay. “I’m watching the macadam of the road. That’s what counts when—”

“Hold it!” broke in Fred. “Look out ahead!”

Staring into further blackness, the passenger had seen what the driver had not. A read lantern was waving in the darkness, its holder completely lost amid the storm. Jay looked up as he heard Fred’s warning. He jammed on the brakes. The car skidded halfway across the road before it came to a stop.

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