and, fancying himself unseen, suddenly bowing his head in his hands.
"It won't do," thought Oliver determinedly, "he must have some one to help him, some one that knows more about this wretched business. There is that Cousin Tom he talks about, Eleanor's father. I can't think of any one else. I will send for him."
If he could only have found the Beeman! He even searched the telephone book for the name of Marshall, but found none. And he had never discovered where the Beeman and Polly lived. Yes, the only choice was Cousin Tom.
He got the connection with some difficulty and asked for Mr. Brighton.
"Mr. Brighton is at dinner," returned the smooth voice of a well-trained servant; "he cannot be interrupted."
"But this is very important," insisted Oliver. "I am quite sure that if he knew"
"My orders are that he is not to be disturbed," was the politely firm answer while the boy raged and fumed impotently.
"Then tell him," Oliver directed, "that his cousin, Mr. Jasper Peyton, is in very great trouble and needs to see him as—as soon as he finds it quite convenient."
His voice was trembling with anger and he slammed down the receiver without waiting for a reply.
"There was no use sending for him, after all,"
