The twin towers of the old mansion glowered down at him as he fled through
the blackness.	His churning steps were unsure, like a drunkard's.  Forty yards
from the house Jack felt a sudden, numbing cold hit the back of his neck.
Dense clouds filtered the moonlight, shrouding all sense of direction.	The
cold intensified.  Jack quickened his lurching march.

  Crashing free of the underbrush, he spied the Continental, its dead, useless
bulk astride the dirt road.  Nora was still there, inside...  =With the dome
lights on!=

  He stumbled forward, his hand slashing at the door handle.