TIMMY
Even from the outside one could sense the desolation of the house. It
took little imagination to visualize the large, sprawling rooms
downstairs and the small, stuffy rooms upstairs weighted down to a
point of suffocation by the flat tin roof. Cobwebs, slugs, every
scurrying, every crawling thing that thrived in dampness and gloom must
thrive in such a place, Skippy thought.
He was glad of Nickie Fallon's friendly hand on his arm as they
ascended the high stoop. And he was considerably cheered by the oily,
smiling faces of Shorty and Biff as they all followed in the wake of
the two men. He had somehow forgotten that these three lawless boys
would have been repugnant to him under other conditions. Now he
welcomed them as old companions, and their nearness was comforting in
this chill, lonely moment.
"Metal doors 'n everythin'," Nickie whispered in his ear. "Locks
outside too, hah? What's out is out an' what's in is in!"
They entered a stuffy vestibule and passed into a long, dark hall. At
the far end of it beside the stairway was a lantern standing on a
broken stool. It gave a feeble light at best, but now it sputtered and
flickered like some dying thing and sent out weird shadows that stole
up and down the dirty walls.
Barker stood a moment as if listening. Then he turned his grave face to
Frost and said, "No sound from upstairs. Timmy must be asleep. Go up
and get him. We'll make some coffee and have something to eat. When you
come down put some oil in that lantern."
Skippy wondered who Timmy was, but soon dismissed the thought in his
joy at hearing that they would get something to eat. Nickie, too,
brightened up at this announcement and Shorty and Biff made no secret
of their delight, but gave vent to several nasal grunts.
Frost hurried back and ascended the narrow, rickety stairway two steps
at a time. Barker motioned the boys into a room at his right where he
already had a lantern lighted.
"Sit down," he said abruptly. "I'm going out to the kitchen to make
coffee." Then, without having really looked at them, he stepped into
the hall. There was the sound of a key turning in the door outside and
suddenly he was back again, passing through the room and toward another
door as if he didn't know the boys were there. When that door had
closed behind him, his footsteps could be heard echoing over bare
boards, until, after other doors slammed, there ensued a few moments of
silence.
Skippy had taken a chair like the rest and now he glanced around the
big room. Besides the chairs they were occupying there were two other
chairs standing, battered and forlorn, against the shuttered and
heavily barred windows. The room boasted no other furniture and no
rugs; the floor was thick with dust.
"Well, it's good there ain't no more furniture to catch the dust, hah?"
Fallon commented humorously as he took note of their surroundings.
"Say, I wonder what's the big idea, barrin' windows--I ain't keen on
bars. Makes me think we're in Delafield almost."
Shorty got up softly and moved his chair close to the others. When his
pudgy body was seated, he leaned over confidentially and said, "Mebbe
we better in Delafield, eh Neecky?" He shook his round head at his
friend Biff, then nodded back at Fallon. "Eet look what ya call phoney
the way thees Barker don' look at us an' how he bring us here to thees
spooky, dirty place, eh?"
"Just what I teenck!" Biff agreed in an undertone. "I get dem
creeps--you know? Ever'ting eet should be fun eef Barker an' Frost fool
dem bulls an' take us keeds from de school--eet should be fun eef they
do it because they no want us to do the stretch and feel dis seempathy,
eh? But no--they act like we was goin' to funeral, yes Neecky?"
"Aw, forget it!" Nicky answered. "I'll admit I ain't got no yen for
this joint myself. But we ain't where we can say we'd like a nice
up-to-date apartment. We gotta be glad we ain't startin' no long
stretch at Delafield. I got a hunch Frost's kinda slippery an' Barker's
a queer bird all right, but what's that when they're keepin' us outa
the hoosegow!"
"An' for thees, Neecky--what we do, eh?" Biff asked, squinting his
small, brown eyes.
"I think," Nicky whispered, "they got a small job for us guys to
do--see? Ain't we all done a job or two for ourselves, hah? So we can
do a job for them if they ast us--see?" He turned to Skippy suddenly
and asked, "Ain't that right, kid?"
"Sure!" Skippy answered, conscious of an inward tremor as he said it.
"That's the kind of talk I like to hear, boys!" came a sepulchral voice
from the doorway where Barker stood watching them. He was grave and
unsmiling, and save for a certain steely glint in his staring eyes, his
face looked not unlike a cold, clay mask.
Nickie Fallon broke the tension with a forced, husky laugh. "You'n
Frost give us a break, Mr. Barker," he said nervously, "we'd be short
skates if we didn't try an' square it."
"Of course," Barker agreed without any enthusiasm.
A silence ensued that to Skippy was tense. Barker continued to stand
there and stare, and the boys sat rigid in their chairs until the
welcome sound of footsteps was heard coming down the stairs and along
the hall.
Frost strode into the big room and in his wake was a tall, fair-haired
boy of about sixteen whose appearance was somewhat disheveled. He had a
wild expression in his light blue eyes and at sight of Barker a shadow
crossed his face.
"I been most crazy barred up in that dark hole since daylight!" he
cried. "I thought you'n Frost would never come! Honest, I'll go nuts if
I ain't let out soon. Over a month an' two kids're gone an' I'm still
here! Barker, it's givin' me the creeps--honest! It's worse'n if I
stayed in the pen up in Al...."
"I've arranged for you to go tomorrow night, Timmy," Barker interposed
hastily. And, nodding his long head toward the new arrivals, he added:
"You'll have these boys to keep you company till then."
Timmy wheeled about, obviously unaware of the boys' presence in the
room until that moment. He drew a hand across his forehead as if dazed.
Then suddenly, in a trembling voice, he said, "More!"
Skippy felt himself trembling too.