“I guess I know what he likes,” snapped the Captain, setting the saucer of milk down on the floor beside the stove.
I took an indignant step forward. But Eve’s restraining hand was on my arm. “Wait a minute, Sandy,” she urged. “If Captain Trout wants to give Adam a little refreshment, surely there’s no harm in that. I’m going outside to have a little chat with Mr. Doe. You’d better come along.”
I hesitated, looking from the ruddy face of the Captain, bent solicitously over the cat, to the impassive one of John Doe where he stood like a sentinel guarding the door. Suddenly the whole situation became funny. “Eve,” I said, “doesn’t he remind you of Horatius at the Bridge or something!”
But Eve was saying something to him in a low appealing voice and the next moment, somewhat to my surprise, we were all three standing together on the little back porch with the door closed behind us. “Now,” said Eve, “please, Mr. Doe, do tell us what all this cat business is about?”
“Oh, don’t call me that,” said the boy impatiently. “You know it isn’t my name.”
“Naturally,” returned Eve, “but since it’s the name you gave us——”
“Oh, I was just kidding. My name’s Michael Gilpatrick.”
“What an awfully nice name,” Eve smiled. She seated herself on one of the built-in benches at the end of the porch. “Now,” she said, “we can talk. Tell us about the cat.”
Michael Gilpatrick leaned against the post. “Well,” he said, “I suppose I might as well. But I don’t want you to think I’m taking sides in the matter. Of course I’m a friend of the Captain, still I can see that there’s something to be said on both sides.”
“Okay,” said Eve. “Having stated your position, please proceed. You must remember that we’re all in the dark. We never had the slightest inkling that there was any mystery surrounding Adam until tonight. Of course we knew that Aunt Cal and the Captain weren’t exactly on cordial terms.”