Skip had put his hand in his jacket pocket, Eddie noticed, and had a finger poked forward to make it seem he held a gun. Eddie thought Mrs. Havermann was too stunned with fright to notice. She seemed ready to drop. As he watched, she actually tottered, then recovered. “Please don’t . . . don’t do anything violent,” she stammered.

“That depends on you,” Skip said in a perfectly indifferent manner. He was smiling a little, and the effect of the flesh moving and whitening under the knitted silk was uncanny. “We want the key to Stolz’s room and then we want you to keep out of our way.”

There was a moment of waiting while she made up her mind about it, or gained control of her shaking limbs, and then she slowly led the way out of the kitchen. They passed Karen, who shrank aside, then upstairs. At the top of the stairs Mrs. Havermann turned to face them. She seemed to have better control of herself. “You’re wasting your time,” she said to Skip. “There is nothing of value in Mr. Stolz’s room.”

“How about letting us see for ourselves?” Skip was easy and unworried. “Let’s have the key, huh?”

Karen was about halfway up the stairs. She came on up as Mrs. Havermann turned into her bedroom and opened a closet door. Skip tensed, perhaps thinking she had a gun hidden, but when she had fumbled for a moment in the pocket of a hanging coat she came out with the key. It had a new look; the ridges were sharp-cut. Skip grabbed it and nodded.

He glanced from Eddie to Karen. “Okay. Now tie her up.”

Karen cried, “You promised!” and Skip said coolly, “Tie her up or I’ll knock her out.”

Mrs. Havermann licked her lips. “You tie me, Karen.”

Skip was grinning twistedly inside the mask, and Eddie wondered if Karen knew how she had betrayed herself, crying out like that. Mrs. Havermann had a very thoughtful look as she sat down on the edge of the bed, where Skip motioned her. She looked as if she were thinking of things which had happened long ago, or over a long period of years. She looked as if there might be a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Turn over on the bed,” Skip said to Mrs. Havermann. “Karen, tie her arms behind her. Tight. Wrists, then higher. And put juice in it.”

“What shall I use?”

“For Chrissakes, tear up a towel or something.”

Mrs. Havermann turned her head. “Karen, do you know these men?”

“I never saw them before,” Karen answered, a confused childish lie. Everything she did showed that she knew Skip, was aware of his every move and glance. “What shall I use to tie you?”

“Don’t destroy something good,” Mrs. Havermann said, much more calmly now. “Go to the linen closet and get one of the worn things.”