Asquam way. I'll take him along with me."
Asquam's languid representative of the telegraph knocked upon the door of Applegate Farm, which was locked. Then he thrust the yellow envelope as far under the door as possible and went his way. An hour later, a tall man and a radiant small boy pushed open the gate on Winterbottom Road and walked across the yellow grass. Kirk broke away and ran toward the house, hands outflung.
"Phil! Ken!" he called jubilantly.
His face shadowed as his hands came against the unyielding door of the house.
"Phil—" he faltered.
"Perhaps they haven't the telegram," Mr. Martin said. "We'll have to wait around."
"They might be at the Maestro's," Kirk said suddenly. "Come—run quick—I'll show you the way. There's a hole in the hedge—are you too big to get through?"
"I think not," said the mate.
In the Maestro's library, Felicia leaned suddenly upon the piano.
