Dee, stifling under the blanket and unaware that streams of perspiration were running down his pale face, was wholly puzzled. He knew his father, as he always thought him, was a queer sort, wrapped up in his experiments, handicapped by his blindness, caring nothing for the world or its movements. But Dee had never seen anything that would call forth the letters that lay scattered around him. Certainly he had never seen his father in a rage. All his temper was expressed in a cold and biting sarcasm. He did not drink anything but the distilled water that came every week. There was but one thing to think. His father must be a drug fiend. Although Dee had never seen anything peculiar, he determined to watch.
Then his thoughts raced back to the one great sentence, “I cannot be too glad that Marion is not Mr. De Lorme’s son.”
Marion drew a long, deep breath. He was not Mr. De Lorme’s son! That was why he felt so little affection, so small a sense of duty. But there must be a reason why the chemist always claimed him as his own.
The boy determined to keep silence, and watch. He skimmed rapidly through the third packet, mostly clippings. At last he found it. A notice of the wedding of Mrs. Mary Seaton Clay to Dr. Oscar De Lorme. And the town was a well-known village near Lexington.
The last paper read, Dee packed them up, slipped them under his mattress and extinguished the light, emerged from the stifling blanket and got into bed. The time had flown, for the east was commencing to show streaks of red. As Dee lay thinking, he heard footsteps. Several people seemed to be walking with the greatest care down the long hall from the room at the back that had been fitted up for the laboratory. There was one squeaky board half way down the stairs. Dee heard it squeak seven times. The front door opened, and presently closed, but there was no sound of feet on the asphalt sidewalk. Dee decided that the visitors had gone around the house. He listened intently and soon the throb of a high-powered engine came from the garage in the rear. The De Lormes did not own a car.
Dee did not move and before long the tell-tale board squeaked again. Someone came upstairs, and directly to his door. Then Dee heard a slight click as though someone was tampering with the lock, and all was still.
Dee did not get up to see what had happened. He knew he would find out in the morning. He was dead tired and sleepy. The night had been a hard one.
It was eight o’clock before he woke, and the house was silent and empty. Mr. De Lorme had breakfasted early and had returned to his workroom. Zip had gone out.
Dee ate his breakfast, took his precious letters (which he had done up in a parcel and sealed) and went off to find Mr. Wolfe. He asked him to keep the package for him, then went out with Bill to find Eddie.
Eddie was not waiting to be found. He was sprinting down the street, having detached himself from a group standing near the railroad.