Before Kerwin could call to him again he turned on his heel and walked away.
Fifty yards along he glanced back over his shoulder. What he saw caused a sort of Mephistophelian grin to curve his lips.
Smoke, like a billowy veil in the moonlight, was rolling from the unboarded windows of the haunted house, and through the cracks he glimpsed the dance of flames.
"The stove must have been kicked over in the shuffle," he muttered, unctuously.
A moment he stood there watching the growth of the fire, then, resolutely turning his face to the east, he moved on down the icy road.
THE CHAMPIONS