"So what?" Dave heard his own voice suddenly whisper. "Here we are, and—so what?"
"A little patience, I fancy," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Jones probably just wouldn't stand here waiting. It might look too suspicious to all those blighters moving about. Besides, we're several minutes late. Maybe he went for a bit of a walk, and will be back."
"Sure, that's probably it," Dave agreed, but only with his lips.
There was no agreeing with Freddy's words inside his head. A cold clammy thought seemed to fill his entire brain. No, not just a thought. Definite knowledge it was—though of course there was no proof. Just the same, though, he had the steady sickening feeling that the man called Jones was not going to meet them this night, or any other night, for that matter. However, he had agreed with Freddy with his lips, anyway. No sense building up a fear in Freddy that might be absolutely unfounded. Still—
"Steady, Dave!" came Freddy's sudden, cautioning whisper. "I heard footsteps coming along the road. Maybe this will be Jones. Steady until we get a look at the chap!"
Dave was steady enough—outwardly. But inside he was all just so much nervous jelly. His heart tried to slap out through his ribs as he himself heard the sounds of footsteps coming along the road. And the blood raced through his veins, and actually seemed to be trying to force itself out through the ends of his fingers and the ends of his toes. He was filled with the wild insane desire to snap the tension with a laugh, or with a shout. He curbed the impulse, though, and crouched with Freddy in the darkness as the footsteps came closer and closer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Satan's Calling Card
Closer, closer came the footsteps! They seemed to be mysteriously synchronized with Dave's beating heart. One beat, one footstep. One beat, one footstep. Another, and another. Dave stabbed with his eyes at the gloom, but he couldn't see a single moving shadow; couldn't see a single moving thing, even though there seemed to be a sort of pale glow all about from the reflection of raging fires, and exploding ammo dumps up Rouen way to the north. But he couldn't see a thing, and his straining eyes began to smart and water.