Joe jumped. Then he went pale.
"You're not the Devil," he gasped. "You're...."
There was no comment from the Devil. Nothing but another squeak, and this time the Devil scrabbled his claws about on the floor in a nervous chittering way.
"You're ... a mouse!" yelled Joe. He lifted his gun and aimed between the Devil's eyes, then pulled the trigger. The gun roared in the confines of the basement, and the Devil slumped to the floor. Once or twice he kicked, then his mouth fell open, and he sagged into a limp heap.
"Joe!" screamed Pearl. "What did you do?"
"I just killed a mouse," said Joe. His voice was shaking.
"A mouse? With a gun. Are you crazy?"
"Come on down and take a look," said Joe.
Pearl descended the stairs hesitantly, the snow shovel held at the ready, her eyes averted from the wall where the Devil was chained. "I don't see any mouse," she said. "Where is it?"