The Harrigans" were retreating to their birthright. Three passengers occupied the chauffeured sedan. All were clad in black. Rose Harrigan, the sister of the deceased, was tight-lipped, her head held high. Her sister-in-law, Vera Harrigan, the widow, was sleeping, her eyelids covered her large, blue eyes. Steven Harrigan, Vera"s son, had tried engaging them in conversation and had given up. The trip had been long and grueling on 1931 roads. Reading was difficult as the car swayed and bounced the entire time.
As the car sliced through the light Florida mists, the black slated towers of Harrigan"s House gave promise to an end of their confinement. The massive home of stone sat brooding, waiting for them or anyone to enter and occupy it again. The old wall surrounding the grounds was crumbli
