B. B. was still talking about birds when Kite came. Wint heard footsteps on the walk in front of the house, heard them come up the steps. There were several men. Not Kite alone. The sounds told him that. He waited, sitting still, till they knocked on the front door. Then he went out into the hall and opened the door and saw Kite standing there, his dry little face triumphant, malignantly rejoicing.
Wint looked at Kite steadily for a moment; and then he lifted his eyes and saw, behind Kite, Amos Caretall. And at one side, Ed Skinner of the Sun. He had thought there were others. But he saw no one else.
Kite stepped inside the door. Skinner and Amos stood still till Wint asked: “Well—what is it?”
Kite said then: “Come in, Amos. You too, Ed.”
Amos, his big head on one side, his eyes squinting in a friendly way, drawled a question: “How about it, Wint? Kite says he’s got something to talk over. Asked me to come along. But I don’t allow he’s got any right to ask me into your house.”
“Come in, Amos. Both of you,” Wint said; and Kite repeated:
“Yes, come in. I know what I’m talking about. This young man isn’t likely to object.”
“All right, Wint?” Amos asked again; and Wint nodded, and Amos lumbered into the hall. Then Chase came to the door that led from the sitting room into the hall; and at sight of Amos, he stopped very still, with a white face. Wint crossed to his father’s side and told him quietly:
“It’s all right. Kite brought him. It’s all right, dad.”
Chase exclaimed: “How do I know it’s all right? I don’t understand all this mystery. Kite, by what right do you use my house for a meeting place? What is all this, anyway? What is the idea, Kite?”