"Ken," she said, breathing hard, "something's going to happen—something!"
"What more can happen?" Ken said gently.
"But—oh, please! Do something—I don't know—"
"Poor child!" murmured the Maestro. "Sit here, Felicia. Help her, Ken."
"I don't need help," said Phil. "Oh, you think I'm mad, I suppose. I'm not. Ken—please go and look out—go to the house. Oh, Kirk!"
The Maestro shook his head and put a hand on Felicia's shoulder.
"Better go, Ken," he said quietly.
Kenelm stepped upon the terrace. Through the long window, which he left open behind him, a joyous voice came quite clearly to the library.
"And this is the poor empty pool that I told you about, that never has had any water in it since then—and aren't we at the terrace steps now?"
Felicia vowed afterward that she didn't faint. Yet she had no clear recollection of seeing Kirk between the time when she saw him
