2

Like wary animals, or like the ghosts of animals half-visible in the fog, they stepped away from the last of the woods. When Del saw the parklike area with its manicured lawns and artfully placed trees - here too the cold fog floated and accumulated in the hollows - he said, 'I never even knew this was here!'

Rose said, 'I think other people used to live here, a long time ago, but Mr. Collins made them leave.'

Tom nodded: the huge shining owl had driven them away.

'I think it used to be a resort,' Rose said. 'And I think the big house used to be a sort of nightclub and casino.'

'But why did they need a tunnel?' Tom asked.

'I guess it had something to do with bootlegging,' Rose told him.

'Sure,' Del said, suddenly knowledgeable. 'This side must be close to a little road. It wouldn't all have been walled in then. If they heard of a raid, they could hide the booze and wheels and stuff in the tunnel.'

'Only if the runnel went back to Shadowland,' Tom pointed out.

Rose said, 'Del's right. There is more than one tunnel. You'll see in a minute.' The shabby house was even more run-down in the fog. The rip in the porch screen gaped like a hungry mouth.

The three of them went toward the house. Tom kept seeing it in the past Rose and Del had drawn for him, in a postwar summer, surrounded by a few other houses like it - now fallen in - inhabited by men in blazers and boaters, women in dresses like the one Rose wore. There would be can-s, a man somewhere would be practicing the banjo, and ice cubes would chime in martini pitchers.

Good stuff. Prewar. Came in from Canada.

Nick, why don't we cross the lake and go up to the lodge tonight?

Good idea, sport. I want another fling at that wheel.

Say, you haven't heard anything about that owl Philly claims he saw last night?

No - that would have been later. 'Sweet Sue' was what the banjo was playing, ringing out chinga-chink-chink, chinga-chink-chink through the summer air.

Yes, let's try our hand at the lodge tonight. I feel lucky. Waft some gin this way, sport, if you'll be so kind.

'You daydreaming?' Rose called out. 'Or are you just afraid to come in?'

Tom went up on the porch with the other two. Rose led them into the house and switched on a single lamp. The old building looked as though no one had been in it since the magician's winged emissary had sent them all packing. Dust lay on all the ripped chairs, on the blurry carpet.

'Those men are set to go after tomorrow night,' Rose said. 'All their things are either thrown away or back at the house. Or maybe in one of the other tunnels.'

'Wait a second,' Del said. 'How many are there?'

'Three. Don't worry, I can find the right one.' She smiled at Tom. 'I put some sandwiches and a thermos and some blankets down there. We'll be all right tonight.'

'So where is this tunnel?' Del asked. 'Hey, if there are rats down there, you can shoot them.'

'I didn't see any rats,' Rose said, and gave Tom a speculative look.

'Well, I brought his gun,' Tom admitted. 'It's about a hundred years old. I don't know how to shoot it, anyhow.'

'The tunnel's this way.' Rose moved a dusty wicker table and pushed back the rug. A trapdoor lay flush against the wood. She bent down, put her finger through the ring, and swung the door up. 'Used to be how you got to the little cellar.' Wide concrete steps led down into blackness. 'They made the tunnels later.'

'Boy,' Del said. 'As simple as that.'

'You waiting for something?' Rose asked, and Del looked at both of them, uttered 'Oh' in a squeaking voice, and began to go slowly down the steps. 'There's a flashlight on the bottom step.'

'Found it. Come on, you guys.'