“We will exact only one promise,” the professor continued. “You’ll not pry into our secrets. Such secrets as we entrust to you you will divulge to no man. Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“You’ll learn a lot and enjoy the work a heap,” the son had said to Johnny.
“I want you to know,” the professor had added in a sober tone, “that if you come with us you may be in some danger; in fact I’m quite certain that I can promise it, yet it will never be foolhardy nor reckless danger. You’ll come to live with us. That is necessary.”
“That’s O.K.,” Johnny had agreed.
And now Johnny found himself outside in the cool air of night, the lake breeze fanning his cheek, wondering if it all—the living skeletons, eyes blinking in the wall, the self-closing doors—all had been a dream.
“No!” He crushed the roll of bills in his pocket. “No, it was real enough. I—”
Suddenly two shadows materialized from a doorway, one tall, one short.
“The—the two men of the living skeletons, the ones that girl and I saw in the mirror!” he whispered, catching his breath sharply. If there had been any question in his mind regarding this last conclusion it was dispelled instantly. An inch of white steel, a knife blade, protruded from the short person’s sleeve as he muttered menacingly, “Stand where you are!”