Again I was reminded of a wolf by the greedy light in the old man’s close-set eyes.
“Good!” he said, licking his lips. “Good!”
Scoop squinted around the big empty room. His eyes took in the heavy overhead beams and the cobwebby stone walls.
“How did you happen to find this place?” he quizzed.
“I’m thinkin’ of buyin’ it,” the old man joked, “an’ havin’ it remodeled into an apartment buildin’. Don’t you think it’d make a swell home fur me?” [[76]]
“Well,” said Scoop, noticing, I guess, that the other hadn’t answered his question, “if you decide to live here you’ll have some fine neighbors.” He pointed to the near-by brick house, visible through the open door. “I suppose you know who lives there.”
A queer, dark look flashed into the old man’s face. It was there for an instant; then it was gone.
“I hain’t interested in inventors,” he muttered. He got his black satchel. “How many more boxes of soap be you boys wantin’ to take with you?”
“Oh, fifteen or twenty,” said Scoop. “Do you sleep here?”
“I’ve got some blankets upstairs.”