DEVLIN'S RETURN
Nickie slept after a long time but Skippy was not so fortunate. Not
until the storm settled down into a steady pattering rain with the
early morning hours did he find himself dozing, yet always waking
suddenly, trembling, and with his heart beating rapidly in his breast.
During one of these quiet intervals in which he was dozing, he thought
he dreamed that he heard the sound of a car. He did not wake at once,
but kept listening for it again in a more or less semi-conscious state.
Suddenly, however, he was sure that he heard footsteps down in the
kitchen.
For a moment he felt frozen with terror. Then he gathered himself
together and shook Nickie firmly. "Don't speak, Nickie!" he whispered.
"Just _lissen_!"
Nickie was wide awake and alert, but he did not move a muscle. "I hear
it, kid," he murmured. "Somebuddy in the kitchen."
"Yep. I'm frozen like."
"Me too. What'll we do, hah?"
"Stay where we are when we ain't got a light."
"Right. I forgot. Who d'you think tis?"
"_Lissen!_"
They listened intently. A muffled cough, the sound of something
metallic falling, nothing escaped them. The footsteps were measured and
heavy and seemed to circle the kitchen interminably.
"Sounds like _him_, kid!" Nickie whispered fearfully. "I know them big
feeta his'n. He's got the biggest dogs I ever seen. Ever notice?"
"Nope." Skippy thought how queer that Nickie should speak of such
details at a fearful time like this. But people did that--he was
beginning to realize that one was apt to say and do almost anything
strange in moments of distress.
"Say, kid!"
"Yeah?"
"If it's _him_ ... what bout that lock I picked in his room ... what
about the ladder?"
"I been thinkin'," Skippy answered breathlessly. "Lissen, Nick--you
don't know nothin' bout that lock, neither do I! Frost said sump'n
about how he lost his keys when he was beatin' it with Shorty and
Biff--get me? He musta picked the lock himself. We found the door that
way when we come upstairs after they blew. We were lookin' for a ladder
to go up in the attic--we wanted to go up an' snoop round for sump'n to
do. We seen the closet door standin' open an' there was the ladder."
"Oke, kid. But s'pose he's leary bout us wantin' to go up in the attic?"
"I gotta hunch he won't be--much. We didn't wedge the bar enough so's
he'd notice it less he went up an' looked close. Even then he'd know
it'd be too far to jump out the winder an' he won't get wise bout the
tree less he sees the rope. Gee whiz, I'm glad I hid it, I am."
"I could cry, I'm so glad, kid. This racket's too spooky for me to
think up an alibi quick. Holy smoke, you're a life-saver!"
At heart, Skippy felt no such assurance. He was shaking from head to
foot and he dreaded Devlin as he dreaded Death. He shuddered at the
unconscious simile and wondered if the very thought itself did not
portend the evil which Timmy had come back to warn them of.
Nickie's cold, clammy hand stole over and grasped his trembling wrist.
Unashamed, they interlaced their fingers and clasped them so firmly
that it hurt. Nevertheless, they derived a sort of comfort from the
contact and breathed more freely even after the heavy feet below
tramped out of the kitchen and they heard the measured tread into the
hall.
"He's comin', I bet!" Skippy whispered feverishly.
Nickie was mumbling a prayer that his aunt had taught him in babyhood,
a prayer that he thought he had forgotten long ago. He dared not speak,
nor think, for fear of screaming and acting like a weak, hysterical
girl. The prayer and Skippy's warm fingers pressing against his own
kept him from losing his head entirely.
Then they heard the footsteps on the stair!
Skippy listened, his head numb and his body trembling. The house seemed
to shake with the vibration of each step. To the frightened boys it
sounded like a dirge, for the stairs creaked and groaned and the
flooring, rotting with age and disuse, emitted eerie thumpings
throughout the dismal house.
The darkness added much to their terrible fear, for they could not see
each other and it had the effect of seeming to make them the more
helpless. Skippy felt during those terrible seconds that he would not
be able to raise a hand in his own defense.
So they waited, counting each heavy step and listening with increasing
dread as they came nearer. It seemed to take an interminable time for
those feet to span the distance between the top of the stairway and the
door of their room. They squeezed each other's fingers tensely.
At last the footsteps ceased--not at their door, but across the hall!
Skippy gulped hard. Whoever it was, he was discovering that the door
had been opened, the lock picked ... now he knew that his memorandum
book was gone ... now he had noticed that the ladder had been taken
from the closet.
They heard him rush out of the room and to the rear of the hall where
they had left the ladder standing propped against the attic opening.
Skippy could see the feeble glimmer of the lantern as it cast a lonely
ray under their door.
Time stood still after that; they seemed to be in a state of suspended
animation. Skippy could not hear Nickie breathe; Nickie listened in
vain for a heart beat from Skippy's breast. The only sound that reached
their ears was that of the rushing footsteps coming back now along the
hall and suddenly stopping before their door.
Then the doorknob rattled.
The door did not give, of course; the bed was too tightly jammed
against it. The boys waited and presently they knew that there was a
desperate effort being made to open the door, for the bed vibrated from
the impact. Finally there came a furious pounding on the oaken panel.
"Fallon--Kid?" the familiar, deep voice called insistently. "You boys
there?"
Skippy felt then that his time had come.