Then suddenly there were sounds overhead—footsteps creaking across the floor, a muffled murmur of voices. Ronnie drew a deep breath and let it all out in a shout. “Dad! Dad! We’re down here!”
“Bust a hole in the floor if you can’t find the trap door!” yelled Phil.
Ronnie’s heart beat wildly as he heard the screech of nails being pulled from the wood. The trap door was lifted. Phil uttered a soft groan of relief. And then an all-too-familiar voice said harshly, “O.K.! Down you go!”
For a moment the two boys stood frozen. Then, with a swiftness amazing for him, Phil pointed the flashlight at the trap door. Caldwell was standing near the opening, motioning with his gun to someone in the shadows behind him.
As the light struck him, Caldwell made a low, snarling sound and whirled around to level his gun at the boys below. “Put out that light!” he commanded.
Phil obeyed hastily, but in the split second it had taken him to find the switch, a second man had stepped into the light. Ronnie gasped. He knew, from Phil’s simultaneous gasp, that he had not been dreaming. There were two Mr. Caldwells!
Chapter 17
Huddled together in the dark, the two boys and the man heard the thud of the trap door as it was dropped, the ring of a hammer against the nails being driven back into the wood. Nobody spoke. Ronnie was conscious of the heavy breathing of the man who had joined them in their prison, of Phil’s shoulder pressing against his as though for reassurance.
In the building above there were footsteps again, an occasional thump and scrape as though something were being dragged across the floor toward the opening in the wall. For several moments there would be silence; then the sounds would begin again.
“The glass!” said Ronnie at last. “He’s taking the glass away.”