There was a soft, billowing explosion. Chunks of car tumbled lazily into the air, trailing fire and smoke. Harry, standing on the veranda, was struck on the arm by a flying upholstery spring, and a long piece of fender sailed across the yard and landed on Mr. Beaver’s roof.

The five of them stood there watching the remains of the car burn themselves out. A couple of neighbors came from across the street and watched, too, and after a while a man came with a garden hose and doused the last few flickers.

Neil, tightly holding Toby’s hand, came along the veranda wide-eyed and shaken. Toby himself seemed almost indifferent, and even when he came close to Andy he showed no sign of boyish excitement or any urge to talk about the explosion. Neil said, “What happened? What the hell was all that about?”

Harry rubbed his eyes and then looked sardonically at Andy.

“Nothing,” he said, with a wry grin. “It was just one of those little bugs that Ford haven’t quite sorted out yet.”

“But the whole damn car—”

“Neil,” said Harry earnestly. “Let’s just forget it, shall we? I think we need to go talk about this someplace private.”

Andy, looking slightly dazed, said, “Did that car just blow up? Boy—did that car just blow up?”

Harry patted Andy’s gingery hair. “Yes, kid,” he said. “It just blew up. It was only a little trick I do to attract people’s attention.”

Henry Beaver, scratching his undershirt, came up and said, “You ain’t going to leave that wreck there, I hope? And what about my hundred?”

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Beaver. What your son saw was very far from being an authentic mystical vision. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that he almost owes me money, it was so far from being authentic.”

“He owes you money?” said Mr. Beaver, uncertainly.

“Sure. But we can get around that without any argument. Supposing you just have that wreck cleared away for me, and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

They stood, a tense, silent group, and nobody was laughing. Andy raised his eyes and looked at Harry, and behind his childish expression were depths upon depths of ancient and arcane mysteries. Toby lifted his eyes, too, and they were even fiercer. The eyes of Misquamacus, he who could call down the demons who were in no human shape.

Harry said, “Neil, I think we’d better get out of here.”

*

When they arrived back, by taxi, at Neil’s house on the Pacific hills, there was a note waiting on the kitchen table, propped between the salt and pepper shakers. Neil read it quickly, and then crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash can.

“She’s left you for mother?” asked Harry gently, taking a cookie out of the pottery jar on the sideboard and biting into it.