“But what was it?”

Neil ran his fingers through Toby’s hair, and then sat his son up straight so that he could take a look at him. Toby was tired, with plum-colored circles under his eyes, and he was pale, but otherwise he looked all right. All trace of that lined, hard-bitten face had vanished.

Neil said, “There’s something going on here, Susan. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a bad dream and it’s not Toby’s imagination.”

“What do you mean—‘something’? What kind of a something?”

“I don’t have any idea. But I heard voices coming out of this room tonight, and when I came in here, Toby was different.”

“Different?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Neil. “It looked as though he was wearing some kind of a mask, only it wasn’t a mask at all. He looked like an old man.”

“An old man? Are you kidding me, Neil?”

Neil held Toby close again. He could feel the boy’s heart beating against his own heart, a birdlike flutter. He said, dryly, “I wouldn’t kid you, Susan. You know that. I came in here and Toby had his back to me. He turned around and there he was, with this lined old face.”

“But I don’t understand. What do you mean, a lined old face?”

“For Christ’s sake, Susan, I don’t understand, either. But that’s what it was. He looked like an old man.”

Susan bent down and stroked Toby’s smooth, pale cheek. “I’m calling Doctor Crowder,” she said. “There’s something wrong here, and I want to know what.”

Toby said softly, “I’m all right, Daddy. I’m really all right.”

Susan took Toby from Neil’s arms, and cuddled him. He seemed so thin and bony and vulnerable in his blue-striped pajamas. She whispered in his ear, “Was it the bad dream again, honey? Is that what it was?”

He nodded. “I heard the man saying Allen again. I saw the face in the wardrobe. It was the same man that was by the school fence.”

“You mean the man you dreamed about was the man you saw at school? The same man?” asked Neil.

Toby, drowsy and heavy-lidded, mumbled, “Yes.”

“He had a beard and a hat?”

Toby said, “Yes.” His eyes were beginning to close now, and his head was resting heavily on Susan’s shoulder. After the emotional excitement of his nightmare, he was seeking refuge in deep sleep. Neil said, “Toby—Toby—don’t go to sleep—” but Susan shushed him, gently laid the boy back in his bed, and covered him with his comforter.

Neil looked at Toby for a while, and then went across to the wardrobe and gingerly touched the polished surface.