“Some one’s been tryin’ the door. Don’t know what it was about. Gone now, I guess. I—”
“Listen!” Jimmie broke in. “A terrible thing’s happened. The girl’s gone!”
“Who’s gone?”
“Jeanne!”
“Where to?”
“Who knows?” Jimmie spread his arms excitedly. “Who can tell? She’s been carried off, I tell you! Devil’s got her, like as not. Never did like that Fire God thing; gypsies and devils, witches and all that.”
“Don’t lose your head, son!” The watchman laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “She’s about the place somewhere. We’ll find her.” He gave a hitch to the big gun he always carried under his left arm and led the way.
Petite Jeanne was not “about the place somewhere.” At least, if she was she was securely hidden. They did not find her.
At last in despair Jimmie called Angelo.
“She’s gone!” he said over the telephone. “Vanished, and the Fire God thing has gone with her. She screamed once after the light blinked out. Some one threw the master-switch. She’s gone I tell you!”