“I’ll leave it to Dave and Jock,” Brand defended.
“That’s right,” Jock agreed. Dave nodded his head.
“See?” Brand’s voice was low. “What’s more, I’m almost sure the fellow who eluded us is his brother. If you don’t believe that, look at this picture.” He passed the paper and the photo around.
“Hans Schlitz,” Applegate said, musingly, “That’s the name, right enough. I’ve often heard my mother speak of him. Gloomy, brooding sort of fellow, he was. Probably went back to Europe after the war to tell his sons vile tales of the way he was treated. Poisoned their minds with hate.”
“Oh—ah!” Cherry shuddered. “Gives me the creeps to think of that son of his prowling about here at night.”
“Oh come!” Applegate sprang up. “It’s not as bad as all that. Come on, Cherry.” He put out his hands. “How about a song. I’ll do the honors at the old grand. Happy days.”
“I’d love it!” said Cherry, allowing herself to be led away to the corner where a huge grand piano loomed out of the shadows.
Taking up a candle, Alice carried it to that corner, set it on the piano, then tiptoed back.
With this pale light playing across their interesting mobile faces the young Lord and Cherry took their places.
The moments that followed will linger long in David’s memory. Never before had he seen or heard anything like it. The pale light playing on two bright happy faces, eager for all life, and most of all the perfect blending of mellow tones from the ancient piano with the fresh, free joy of Cherry’s voice. Ah! That was something indeed! More than once, without knowing it, he whispered: