He got out of the chair and went quickly from the room. He had no doubts about Karen. Besides, he had an errand to do. He crossed the street from the school and entered a drugstore and asked to see some rubber gloves. If there had to be work done on that door they’d need these. He was particular, inspecting several pair. Finally he chose two pair, light in weight, in natural rubber, paid for them, stuffed the package into his jacket pocket. Too keyed up to return to class, he killed time then by strolling around and smoking cigarettes.

He didn’t waste even a moment worrying about Mrs. Havermann and her new locks. You busted locks when you had to, and she was nothing. There was danger if she had called Stolz already, but this was a chance he had to take.

At a quarter of nine Eddie came out of class, having told the instructor a lie about a stomach-ache. He and Skip went for Karen. When she came out into the hall Eddie saw at once how bleak and depressed she looked, and he wanted to say something but held his tongue in front of Skip. At twelve minutes past nine they swung up the driveway of the Havermann house, motor cut and lights out. Skip guided the car into the dense shadow of some shrubbery. Skip and Eddie got out of the car, Karen dragging after them, and then Skip said to her, “Take off your stockings.”

She didn’t catch on at once, and Skip cursed her under his breath. Then when she had taken off her shoes and removed the nylon hose he and Eddie pulled a stocking apiece over their heads. Their features flattened weirdly, the skin whitening over the bones, eyes pinched up between folds of flesh. When Eddie looked at Skip he wanted to shudder.

Skip took the package from his pocket, removed the gloves, gave a pair to Eddie.

There were several lights on inside the house: the kitchen, upstairs, a room on the lower floor near the front of the house. “Now this is what you do,” Skip said to Karen, his voice distorted and muffled by the flattening of his lips. “First, the dog. Shut him up where he won’t get out, won’t bark or bother us. Then come to the back door and fix it so we can get in. Then go and tell the old woman there’s something she ought to look at in the kitchen. You smell gas leaking there, or something.”

“She’s going to be terribly scared,” Karen protested. “Can’t you do it some other way?”

“How? Now how could we do it another way?” Skip’s manner was mild now, almost patient, but Eddie sensed the violence just under the surface, and Karen must have felt it too.