The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village and roused as many people as she could. Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place: Fifty years before, at daybreak on a fine summer's morning when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead. The story had been picked over so many times, and had been embroidered in so many places, that nobody was quite sure what the truth was anymore. " Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce. The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house was "creepy. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it "the Riddle House," even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there.
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