He listened again. It wasn’t Devlin’s big car for he could see the rear of it parked in the barn. What had become of the blue coupé, he did not know. Was Frost’s ghost returning in that now? He shivered and jeered at himself for absorbing Nickie’s superstitions.
He seemed to sense a hushed activity going on in the clearing. His heart leaped inside his breast. He couldn’t detect any particular sound—he felt impelled to go to the front room which Shorty and Biff had occupied and see if he could get a glimpse of anything or anyone through those shutters.
While he was thinking about it, he heard Devlin’s heavy tread. The man came out into the hall and dashed down the stairs. Instinctively, Skippy rushed to the bed and awakened Nickie.
“I feel it, Nick!” he was whispering excitedly. “I feel it that sump’n’s gonna happen an’ that we better get dressed.”
Nickie did not have to be told a second time—he had great regard for Skippy’s hunches.
When they had dressed quickly, they ran out into the hall, but hesitated at the head of the stairs. Devlin was standing down in the front hall, evidently looking out through the small aperture in his metal door and mumbling excitedly.
“I’ll not give up—never!” he was saying in deep, wild tones. “Neither will they get those kids—I won’t give ’em the satisfaction. I’ll burn the house up and they’ll burn up with me, that’s what I’ll do! I’ll show ’em—I’ll show ’em!”
Skippy put his fingers to his lips and beckoned Nickie toward the rear of the hall. In a second they were scrambling up the ladder and into the attic. Then the ladder was pulled up after them and the trap door slammed shut.
Nickie was at his wit’s end, crying and gesticulating. “If he lights up this dump, we’ll roast fine up here. What’s the idea, hah—what’s the idea? That guy must be cuckoo.”
“I’ll take a chance on him burnin’,” Skippy said, running toward the front window, “but he ain’t gonna use that silencer on me!”