The ex-mate of the Celestine stood discreetly on the terrace, whistling to himself. But he was not whistling the song about his hat. No, it was a little plaintive air, dimly familiar, Ken thought. Where had he heard it before? And why was the Maestro straightening with a stricken face, from Kirk?
[CHAPTER XV]
MARTIN!
"Roses in the moonlight,
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."