At last he looked at Tucker and Tucker’s wife.
“Tommy?—?Tommy has been hurt?—?I guess he is dead!” he stammered.
The mother threw herself on the floor and picked up the torn, mutilated thing that had been, only a little while ago, her little Tommy.
The man took his hammer and drew out the nails and closed the door and locked it and then drove in a long spike to reinforce the lock.
Then he took hold of the doctor’s shoulders and shook him.
“What killed him, Doctor?
What killed him?” he shouted into Hawthorn’s ear.
The doctor looked at him bravely in spite of the fear in his throat.
“How do I know, Tucker?” he replied.
“How do I know?
Didn’t you tell me that there was nothing there?
Nothing down there?
In the cellar?”