Frost drove away from the clearing with a confidence that communicated itself to Nickie. He was talkative, affable and even informative. Devlin, he told them, had searched out the abandoned house after his talk with the old hermit when they had had a breakdown with their car some ten miles from the bog. Their hunt hadn’t been an easy one—they made the journey three times before they found the place.
“But the boss is that persistent,” the man was saying. “He don’t give up. That’s why I ast you kids to tell the dicks as soon’s you get out, ’cause if he don’t find you by tonight, he’ll be hoppin’ off after me.”
“Did he tell you anything about poor Timmy, huh?” Skippy asked. “Did he tell you that he come back that night?”
“He didn’t tell me nothin’ about him excep’ that he had trouble,” Frost answered truthfully. “But I know what you kids think about it—I think the same thing. He said he could never go to Albany and collect on Timmy so you know what that means without me tellin’.”
Skippy couldn’t talk about it—it was all too horrifying. Nickie must have felt the same way for he was silent and his dark eyes kept to the narrow woods trail as if he dared not look on either side. Somewhere in that bog was Timmy, free from Devlin at last.
They rode along in silence after that and though they were all a bit nervous they felt that courage would come when a safe distance had been put between them and the terrible house. Though Devlin was not there in body he seemed to be there in spirit, and they longed to get out of the woods and into the open where he could no longer wield his power.
It was about five o’clock. Bits of warm sunshine filtered through the higher branches of the trees but below the shadows were gathering and where the growth was thick a gloom had already penetrated.
When they had been riding for some little time, Frost said, “The boss is goin’ to see Smithson, the insurance man, I think. He lives in Hillbriar near that doctor you went to see. He must have some place else to go, I been thinkin’, ’cause it wouldn’t take him that long to just go there.”
The boys were about to agree when they rounded a turn in the narrow trail and saw just ahead the path which Devlin had seemed so interested in on that memorable Monday night. Also, they saw Devlin sitting in his car as if he had just climbed in and was ready to start away. He was headed in the same direction that they were.
Frost swerved the car with such force that it almost turned on its side. “Scram, kids!” he said hoarsely. “I’ll have to too! He’ll know—he’ll know I’m double-crossin’ him!”