“Yeah, it is—now,” Nickie agreed.
Mr. Conne put the boys in his car and got in beside them. “We’ll wait and see this thing go up in smoke, eh? I always thought I didn’t have anything cruel in me, but darned if I don’t enjoy knowing that that smoke is taking Dean Devlin with it. It’s almost too good for him—he should suffer for making kids suffer.”
“Yeah, poor Timmy,” Skippy sighed.
“Yes, I’ve got in touch with his aunt in Glens Falls. We traced him when you wrote his name was Timmy Brogan. You haven’t any idea where Devlin put him?”
“No, an’ we don’t know where he put Frost last night,” Skippy said, telling that part of their tragic story. “I feel sorry about him too, Mr. Conne, but it’s Timmy we’ll never forget. He mighta got away if he hadn’t come back from the creek to warn us about Devlin. He was like a hero, Timmy was.”
Mr. Conne thought so too, but was too much absorbed to say very much. “I’m glad Fallon escaped with you, kid,” he said, smiling at Nickie. “Your aunt’s been worrying the police department day and night to find out where you were.”
“Yeah?” Nickie said abashed. “Holy smoke, I’ll be glad seein’ her again.”
Skippy grinned. “Nickie an’ me—gee whiz, we’d gone crazy if we hadn’t been able to talk to each other. That house....”
“Never mind, kid,” Mr. Conne said soothingly. “It’s all over now, and I guess you’re good and sick of this business, eh? It’s a rotten game and your Aunt Min says she’ll never let you out of her sight....”
“Say, listen, Mr. Conne,” Skippy interposed excitedly, “I can talk Aunt Min into lettin’ me do anything—I ain’t worryin’ about her. It’s you—will you gimme that job you promised me? If you say I did good....”