July ended, and somehow August dragged away. Half the houses on Third Street were shuttered up and the families off somewhere in search of cooling breezes. September arrived, still hot with breathless nights, relieved by thunderstorms.
The strain of the heat had left its mark on the boys, each in a different way. Bill was still sunny, but lacked his old-time bounce. He was nearly always to be found in the room of the Wireless Club, studying the code or testing the wires. Dee haunted the club room too, and brought his books and boned up on math and a couple of subjects that he wanted to pass in as soon as school opened.
Dozens and scores made their way to the courts each day, and languidly batted the balls. Eddie showed the strain. He was thinner, and dark circles showed under the once dancing eyes. His sister Virginia went to Atlantic City. Bill’s mother took her beautiful self down to visit the three Aunts, and Mr. Wolfe and Frank and Bill kept bachelors’ hall, protected by a couple of black and tan dogs weighing about a pound apiece.
Dee saw less of his father than ever. Night and day he spent in the laboratory and occasionally Dee could hear the tinkle of glass when a retort broke. But he had ceased to care what was in the making in that mysterious room. Several times he had asked his father if he might come in and help him, only to be told that it was impossible. Zip was with him; Zip helped him. Quite often Mr. De Lorme preferred Zip as a staff on his three-lap walk around the Park. Dee found that he had reached the dangerous place where it was possible for him to analyze his feeling for his father, and to his lasting grief he found that no love existed between them. A strange new feeling oppressed him. He felt as though in some queer way he was being used as a tool. All through the vacation Dee had been made to attend lectures at the Y.M.C.A.; he had been urged to go to church, and to call at the houses of the various boys he knew. It seemed as though Mr. De Lorme was showing him off. Yet no one came to the De Lorme house except the same ill-favored night-birds and the suave gentlemen of the daylight visits. And now, with a great many new interests and pastimes, Dee missed most of these. Indeed he made it a point to be away all he could, while the feeling of distrust and dislike for his father grew until he could scarcely bear the touch of the half blind man or guide him around the Park.
Anna, the old cook, noticed his lack of appetite, and tried with all her art and skill to prepare good things to tempt his palate.
Dee caught her watching him through narrowed lids at every meal. It might have annoyed him had he had less on his mind. One day, as he was eating a hasty meal all by himself, Anna came and rested her old hands on the table before him. He looked up, and she nodded.
“I was in Siberia,” she said. “The mines. Cold. The keepers are cruel. See?” She rolled up her sleeves and showed lines of white welts on her arms. “I hate and hate, but I like you. There is trouble brewing. Here! Perhaps your fodder get tired of you. Suppose?
“Here is a key. Unlock the trunk it fits. It was your mother’s, just as she left it when you were three. Anna never looked, and your fodder don’t know it here. He always leave moving to Anna. Better see what is in that trunk. Your mother said letters for you. Don’t tell. Go late, dark night.”
She turned and went noiselessly from the room, leaving Dee clutching the key in a hand that shook a little.
Well, there could be no better “late, dark night” than the one just closing down.