Go rap on his door if you like and stir him
up. But I don't think his welcome will be a cordial one."
Ricky sat down on the bottom step and pushed the hair back from her
forehead. Suddenly she looked very small and faintly forlorn with all
that expanse of age-blackened wood behind her.
"I can't understand you two at all. One would think you would be just as
well pleased if that Beezel the rival walked off with this place. You
aren't even trying to fight!"
"Listen, Ricky, how can we fight when we have nothing solid to fight
with? LeFleur is doing all he can, we have explored every possibility
here--"
"Val, don't you _want_ to stay here?" she interrupted him.
He looked around at stone and wood. Did he really want to? His instant
hot anger at the thought of another owner there was his answer. Why,
this house was a part of them, as much as if they had laid its
foundation stones with their own hands. They had been brought up on its
blood-stained legends, and on the one or two happier tales which had
been lived within its walls. If they had to leave, they would regret it
all their lives. And yet--Rupert seemed to take no interest in the
claims of the rival, and only Ricky wanted to fight.
Ricky got up from the stairs.
"We might as well go up and catch that cat," she said.
At the top of the stairs Satan sat, his eyes upon the landing windows.
Val reached out his hands for him, but in that single instant Satan was
gone.
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