• The book has been proof-read and corrected for spelling and grammatical errors• A table of contents with working links to chapters is included• Quality formatting On a certain evening in early September—Friday the thirteenth—to be exact, a stranger in Claymore, Michigan, might have been startled to behold two figures, grotesque in long white sheets which draped them from head to foot, scurrying along an alley leading to Summit Street. It was an appropriate night for ghosts to be abroad. The moon was in the dark and the wind whistled weirdly through the trees.The two figures moved stealthily along the boxwood hedge which bordered the rear of the George Brady property. Presently, coming to an opening barely large enough to squeeze through, they paused, glancing hastily in all directions.“The coast is clear!” one murmured in a low tone.“Surely you don’t expect me to crawl through that tiny hole!” came the indignant protest. “I’m not the bean-pole you are, Jane Allen. What’s the sense of all this secrecy anyhow? Why can’t we go in the main entrance?” “I suppose you want everyone to see you!” the other retorted. “What’s the use of having a secret society if it isn’t secret?”The second “ghost” silently acknowledged the weight of this argument and permitted herself to be pushed toward the opening in the hedge. Half way through, her sheet caught. In her efforts to free herself, it tore.“Mother’s best sheet!” she groaned. “Won’t I catch it when I get home!”“Hurry up!” the other urged with callous indifference to the fate which might await her friend. “We mustn’t be late for the initiation.”They moved swiftly across the lawn, noting that the large white house was entirely dark. They paused at a side door and knocked three times.Almost instantly the door opened and a third ghost confronted them.“Everyone is here now except Cara Wayne,” she informed, “and of course we don’t want her until we’re all ready for the initiation. Aunt Maude and Uncle George went to a bridge party tonight so we have the house to ourselves.”She led them through darkened halls to an attic “clubroom” where an oil lamp dimly burned.“We may as well take off these hot sheets until Cara comes,” she invited. “We can slip them on again when we hear her at the door.”