He beat with both fists, cursing. Then he said, «Watch
out!» took a step back, raised his leg, kicked once, twice, three times; vicious kicks at the paneling that crunched holes and crumbled wood into kindling. He reached in and yanked the entire paneling free. «Lotte!»
They leaned together into the small place under the stairs. The candle flickered on the small table. The Bible was
gone. The small rocking chair moved quietly back and forth, in little arcs, and then stood still.
«Lotte!»
They stared at the empty room. The candle flickered.
«Lotte,» they said.
«You don't believe.»
«I don't know. Old houses are old… old…»
«You think Lotte… she…?»
«I don't know, I don't know.»
«Then she's safe at least, safe! Thank God!»
«Safe? Where's she gone? You really think that? A woman in new clothes, red lipstick, high heels, short skirt, perfume, plucked brows, diamond rings, silk stockings, safe? Safe!» he said, staring deep into the open frame of the Witch Door.
«Yes, safe. Why not?»
He drew a deep breath.
«A woman of that description, lost in a town called Salem in the year 1680?»
He reached over and shut the Witch Door.
They sat waiting by it for the rest of the long, cold night.