'I can tell you a bit about your uncle if you like,' she said aloud. 'He lives in a big old house, a long way from anywhere. There are nearly a hundred rooms, but most of them are shut and locked. There's a big park round the house, and all kinds
of gardens. Well, what do you think of that?' 'Nothing,' replied Mary. 'It doesn't matter to me.'
Mrs Medlock laughed. 'You're a hard little girl! Well, if you don't care, Mr Craven doesn't either. He never spends time on anyone. He's got a crooked back, you see, and although he's always been rich, he was never really happy until he married.'
'Married?' repeated Mary in surprise.
'Yes, he married a sweet, pretty girl, and he loved her deeply. So when she died—'
'Oh! Did she die?' asked Mary, interested.
'Yes, she did. And now he doesn't care about anybody. If
he's at home, he stays in his room and sees nobody. He won't want to see you, so you must stay out of his way and
do what you're told.'
Mary stared out of the train window at the grey sky and
the rain. She was not looking forward to life at her uncle's
house.
The train journey lasted all day, and it was dark when
they arrived at the station. Then there was a long drive to get to the house. It was a cold, windy night, and it was raining heavily. After a while Mary began to hear a strange, wild noise. She looked out of the window, but could see nothing except the darkness.