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sat on, silent and still, as I waited for more

information. Dad wanted her to go to bed

immediately, which was easy enough to see from the

way he kissed her neck. But she was deep in thought.

Her eyes were fixed on her silver sandals as she spoke

of how Clover had died.

"It couldn't have been Bart," she said slowly, as

if to convince herself as well as Dad. "It had to be

some sadist who tortures animals--you know how we

read that the animals in the zoo were being crippled?

One of them must have seen Clover," and her voice died away, for so seldom did we ever see a stranger

on our road.

"Chris," she added, while that horrible look of

fright was still on her face, "today Bart took me

completely by surprise. He told me about

a little boy

who was locked in closets and in the attic. Later on he

told me that little boy's name was Malcolm. Could he

know about him? Who could have told him that

name? Chris, do you think somehow Bart has found

out about us?"

I jerked. What was there to know about them

that I didn't already know? I knew they had some

terrible secret. I crawled away, then raced to my room

and threw myself on my bed. Something awful was

wrong with our lives, I felt it in my bones--and Bart

must have sensed it in his too.

The Snake

.

Sun and fog were playing games, keeping each