"Okay," I said, for no earthly reason that I could think of, "okay, hang on. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
Mrs. Stoddard met me at the door this time. She was worried, almost frightened, and very bewildered.
"George is upstairs, Mr. Kermit. He won't let me come up there. He told me to send you up the minute you arrived. He's up in the attic."
"What on earth," I began.
"I don't know," his wife said. "I was down in the basement drying some clothes, when I heard this terrible yelling from George. Then he was calling you on the telephone. I don't know what it's all about."
I raced up to the attic in nothing flat, almost knocking my teeth out on the bottom step of the attic stairs.
Then I stumbled into the darkness of the attic, and saw Stoddard's flashlight bobbing around in a corner.
"Kermit?"
It was Stoddard's voice.
"Yes," I answered. "What in the hell is up? It had better be goo—."