Finally I stopped and set the lantern upon the floor, endeavoring to somehow get my bearings. There, the sound was definately coming from behind. I retraced my steps, more cautiously, and with my empty hand found a break in the wall, an intersection with yet another hallway. Making my way toward the light, I came upon the nursery at last, and the source of the horrible keening. Inside a fire blazed in the hearth and my first impression upon stumbling into the room was that the place was stifling, the air close and fragrant with the mingled scents of perfumed powder and something that might have been milk.
Baby smells, and something else - the sweat of fear.
Two women were embraced near the hearth. Lucy, her arms enfolded around the sobbing, keening Sarah, whose face was buried in her cousin's shoulder. Nathaniel Coffin, Sarah's husband, stood by the crib, his six-foot frame stooped with grief. I went to him, still holding the lantern, but he was oblivious to my presence. Poor little Casey.