“But we don’t know for sure that it will work,” Philip said.

Carolyn conceded the point. “But Diana has worn similar amulets, and they have protected her from various supernatural phenomena.”

“But it’s never been tried on this particular supernatural phenomenon,” he countered.

“No,” Carolyn admitted. “It has not.”

Philip sat back in his chair, as if his point had been made.

“If it’s all we’ve got, I’ll take it,” Dean said. “No one else who has gone into that room has ever gone in with any kind of protection.”

“It’s something,” Paula agreed. “At least it’s something.”

“Exactly,” Uncle Howard said. “It is something.”

“I hope to be able to find out more in the next few days,” Carolyn said. “I’m rereading all the notes, and I’m researching the lives of Clem and Beatrice in the town hall archives. If I can find out more about them, about what really happened that night, I believe that we could possibly end this nightmare forever.”

“Impossible,” Uncle Howard barked. “There is nothing to be found about either of them at the town hall. Others have looked. There is nothing. Our best bet is to simply let history lie, and to use this amulet from now on for our protection. Carolyn, if it works, you tell Diana that I am willing to pay any amount of money-a fortune!-to purchase that amulet and keep it in our family forever.”

“But how much better if we could actually end the curse,” Paula said to him. “To actually remove the evil forces that control that room.”

Uncle Howard said nothing.

“There is one force there in particular,” Carolyn said. “One force that Diana identified as the strongest. It is that force that controls everything. Clem does its bidding.”

“And Beatrice?” asked Dean.

Carolyn shrugged. “I still don’t fully understand her role in all of this, even though it was clearly her death that set it all into motion.”

“But it all must have something to do with the baby,” Dean said.

Uncle Howard groaned. “I fail to see how all this talk can help us. We have the amulet. It is the protection we have sought for so long.”

Dean had removed a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. He unfolded it and handed it over to Carolyn. “You see?” he asked, ignoring his uncle’s complaint. “It’s a photograph I took years ago of that room.”

As Carolyn took the paper, Howard Young’s face burned a deep red. “How did you get in there to take such a picture?”

“Uncle Howard,” Paula said, “relax. It was a childish prank. We found the keys. We were kids. We had no idea how dangerous it was.”

The old man covered his face with his gnarled hands and trembled.

Carolyn was looking at the image. “It’s the face of a baby,” she said.

“What does the baby have to do with all this?” Dean asked.

Carolyn shuddered, then passed the photo to Douglas. “It was Beatrice’s baby. We don’t know what happened to it.”

“Well, its spirit is in that room,” Dean said.

“Yes,” Carolyn agreed. “Whatever happened that night, the baby lost a mother. And whatever force exists in that room apparently prevents the baby’s spirit from resting as well.”

“Who is the controlling force?” Douglas asked, passing the photo around the table. “Who could be powerful enough and evil enough to keep these deaths going on for eighty years?”

“Was the baby killed?” Chelsea asked, showing interest in the subject for the first time.

“Who was its father? That’s what I’d like to know,” Paula said.

“Enough,” Uncle Howard said in a raspy voice, refusing to look at the image when it was passed to him. “Tonight we will have no more such talk at this table.” He snapped his fingers, and the servants emerged from the kitchen to clear away their salad plates. The main course was served. A huge roast duck. Discussion faded away, and the family ate in relative silence. Every once in a while, Douglas grabbed Carolyn’s hand under the table.

When they were finished, they all retired to the parlor for coffee. The others made small talk among themselves, but Paula took a seat beside Uncle Howard. Above them hung a pair of old rifles, still as shiny as the day they were made.

“They were my father’s,” Uncle Howard said. “He carried them in the First World War. They saved his life many times. That’s why I keep them in such good condition.” His eyes twinkled. “And loaded.”

“Would that we had such weapons to save our own lives,” Paula said.

The old man nodded.

“Uncle Howard, I need to ask you about Dr. Fifer.”

“I said no more for tonight,” the old man said wearily.

“Please, Uncle Howard. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if we don’t talk.”

He made a face. “Why do you bring up Fifer’s name?”

“He was the one who was here investigating when you first told me about the room and the lottery. I remember he was a very nice man. Rather eccentric, but nice.”

“One of those professor types,” Uncle Howard said, raising his coffee cup to his lips, holding the saucer below with shaky hands.

“He asked many questions of all of us,” Paula said.

Uncle Howard’s eyes were far away. “Yes, indeed, he did.”

“And then, right at the end, he said he’d found out something,” Paula said. “I remember that so clearly. He said he’d found out something, and that gave me hope. Hope that maybe we wouldn’t have to go through with the lottery after all.”

Uncle Howard seemed uncomfortable with the conversation. “Well, obviously, whatever he found out didn’t amount to anything. Because the lottery still took place. It was the year your father died in that room.”

Paula nodded. “That’s why I always wondered what Dr. Fifer had found out. He never told us.”

“Who knows?” Uncle Howard said. “It was clearly nothing important.”

“Why did you fire him before the lottery had even taken place?”

The old man’s hands were shaking almost uncontrollably now. He had to set his cup and saucer down on the table beside him.

“Because he upset Jeanette. I couldn’t have that.”

“But he got a response from her,” Paula said. “For the first time in twenty years. That means he was on to something.”

“He was not!” Uncle Howard was angry now. “Please, dear, let me be. This all takes so much out of me.”

“Of course, Uncle Howard,” Paula said. “I’m sorry.”

She stood. She noticed that just a couple of feet away, Carolyn and Douglas were watching her. She walked over to join them.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

Carolyn nodded. “Fifer actually said he’d found something important?”

“Yes,” Paula said. “Then suddenly he was gone. If only we could find him now…”

“He’s dead,” Carolyn said. “I found an obituary for him online. I wanted to speak to him, too, but it was too late. So I’ve been looking for his survivors. He left a son and two daughters. But so far, I’ve been unsuccessful.”

“Do you think he may have left notes?” Douglas asked. “Notes that might reveal what he thought was so important?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Carolyn said. “Because any notes he took are not among the papers that Mr. Young has kept. There are notes from every other investigator who has worked on the case, but not Fifer. He’s the only one.”

Paula glanced back at the old man sitting in the chair. “He’s hiding something, isn’t he?” she asked. “He destroyed Fifer’s notes.”

“Why would he do that?” Douglas asked, still not wanting to believe anything negative of Uncle Howie.

“I think if we knew the answer to that,” Carolyn said, “we’d know how to end the curse of that room.”

The three of them looked over at the old man in his chair, the flickering light of the fire making strange patterns across his face.