of amusement, pushed his foot under the gate and
gave it a hitch to the left, after which it opened
readily enough. He walked softly up the sanded
path, tiptoed up the steps and across the piazza,
and rapped at the front door, not too loudly, lest
this too might attract the attention of the man
across the street. There was no response to his
rap. He put his ear to the door and heard voices
within, and the muffled sound of footsteps. After
a moment he rapped again, a little louder than
before.

There was an instant cessation of the sounds
within. He rapped a third time, to satisfy any
lingering doubt in the minds of those who he felt
sure were listening in some trepidation. A moment
later a ray of light streamed through the
keyhole.

"Who's there?" a woman's voice inquired
somewhat sharply.

"A gentleman," answered Warwick, not holding
it yet time to reveal himself. "Does Mis'
Molly Walden live here?"

"Yes," was the guarded answer. "I'm Mis'
Walden. What's yo'r business?"

"I have a message to you from your son