“Has the colonel been told of these mutterings?” Leonidas asked.
“Certainly,” Dow said. “Officially, he can’t take steps because we have no specific complaint, but he’s had his men keep watch, and Car Fifteen usually parks right around the corner. And we insured the house against all forms of damage and disaster and sabotage. I talked with Judge Round— Did you say she came here with La Otis?”
“She did,” Leonidas told him. “She welcomed me to Dalton. She hoped my children would have fun in the municipal sand boxes. She called this place my restful haven, and wanted to know when I was starting the Great American Novel— Where did she pick up the idea that I was a literary gent?”
Cassie sighed. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. People kept asking me why you had so many books, and they seemed to want a reason, so I just said you wrote. And they assumed I meant books—but Hattie Round’s no fool, Bill. She’s pretty clubby, but that’s how she got along. And she’s too clever to stop being clubby.”
“You see, Bill,” Dow said, “Our Own Dear Harriet Pomeroy Round is still on the up, and the gals are her biggest asset, so she coos a lot. But she’s no dope. She gets along with the gals, and with Aunt Medora, which is almost unique. I had mother help Hattie in some Tuesday Club intrigue, and Hattie promised she’d speak a few warning words to Aunt Medora. Counter-propaganda. Like if the old girl got fresh, we’d go at her with a pickax, and knock her teeth out. Of course, it was better put, but that was the idea. But now, Bill, I wonder—”
“What?”
“Well, after seeing you mesmerize those red-faced gents on the train, I wonder—you’d ought to have heard him, Cassie, talking in a broad A about his pal the Maharajah. They were like to swoon.”
“Did he?” Cassie looked suspiciously at Leonidas. “He talked about Maharajahs?”
“It slew ‘em,” Dow went on. “Look, suppose Bill took Hattie and went to call on Aunt Medora, and twinkled his blue eyes, and chatted about Maharajahs —why, he’d charm the pants off her, Cassie!”
“For my part,” Leonidas said, “the policy of appeasement has never appealed to me. If your Aunt Medora blasts rocks at me, I shall not wave umbrellas at her reprovingly. Tell me, do you think it was wise under the circumstances to let keys to the house get into circulation?”
“It was then,” Cassie said. “She never said a word at first. Only after the house was built. Bill, I forgot to ask, but you didn’t look at Jock’s surprise, did you? Oh, I’m so glad! He spent last night with Tim Adams, so he mercifully wasn’t home when Dow phoned me from the station early this morning, or I’d never have got him to school. I haven’t called him, either, because he’d be sure to skip, and I’m certain he’ll come here on his way home— What time is it? Quarter to three? He’ll be here soon.”
“He likes Meredith’s?”
“Loves it. Oh, dear, that’s going to mean more explaining when his family get home. He was supposed to be sent to that progressive school in Carnavon, but he got expelled the first day— Did I write you about that? Didn’t I? It was awfully hard on me. I didn’t think it would take him an hour, but it took nearly three. And there was I parked around the corner waiting for him, a broiling hot day, and I got two tickets for parking. Bill, what made you so suspicious of Dow on the train? You must have been terribly suspicious, if you prattled about your old friend the Maharajah! What else happened?”
At long last, Leonidas thought, he was going to be able to tell his story about the mousy woman.
“Come into the living room,” he said. “I’d begun to despair—”
A key turned the front-door latch, and Jock bounded in.
“Bill!” He hugged Leonidas. “Bill, I just made the Lower School Swimming Team! Did you look?”
“At your surprise? Certainly not!”
“I felt you’d be home early.” Jock’s overshoes and coat hit the corner simultaneously. “I told Gran you’d take the fast boat—come on! Come see it!”
Leonidas allowed himself to be rushed through the kitchen and boiler room, down the stairs to the lower hall.
Jock stopped short at the sealed door, and his face grew sober.
“Oh, Bill! You looked!”
“But I didn’t, Jock! I read your note, and went back upstairs. Truly.”
“The tape’s been moved,” Jock said. “See? Did you go in, Gran?”
“No, darling. If anyone’s moved it, Uncle Root did last night. He brought over snow shovels and tools, don’t you remember? Take off the tape, and show Bill. He hasn’t seen a thing.”
Reassured, Jock pulled off the strip of adhesive.
“Ready, Bill? Stand right here, so you can see when I swing the door open— Are you excited?”
“I’m panting,” Leonidas said truthfully.
“One, two—ready? Three!”
The open door revealed a neat garage, in which a Bantam beach wagon proudly stood.
“And your name on the door!” Jock said. “It’s from Gran and me. Do you like it? Don’t you think it’s the keenest thing?”
Leonidas didn’t answer.
Over the wheel of the beach wagon was slumped the body of a woman.
“Don’t you like it?” Cassie crowded into the doorway beside him. “You needed a car, living away up— away—oh, Bill!”
“What’s the matter?” Dow peered over Leonidas’s shoulder. “I think it’s the snappiest model I—wow!”
The three of them stood in the doorway, surveying with horror the woman’s
