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CHAPTER XV
MARTIN!
"Roses in the moon-light,
To-night all thine."
THAT was the tune, to be sure! The Maestro was on his feet. He walked slowly to the open French window.
"What—what right have you to come here whistling—that?" he breathed. He wheeled suddenly on Kirk. “Did you sing it to him?" he demanded. "Is this—what is this?"
"I didn't," said Kirk, quickly; "Oh, I didn't."
The air seemed tense, burdened with something that hovered there in the stillness of the waiting garden.
"I can think of no one," said the stranger, slowly, "who has a better right to whistle it here."
The Maestro grasped the man's arm fiercely.
"Turn around!" he said. "What do you mean? What can you mean—unless—"
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