Chapter IV

The Second Wreck%

That third nut was cracked just five
weeks later in the firelit library of what
had been Mr. Hartley Graham's home--the
home of a man who during his
lifetime, so it was occasionally said, had
been, in some ways, almost as eccentric
as his madcap brother--and concerning
the latter his college chums, those who
knew him long ago, were of the opinion
that he was a freak whose "head grew beneath
his shoulder."

The house, a white marble mansion on
Opal Avenue, finest of the old residential
streets in the University city of Clevedon,
was now occupied by the sister of the
two, the mother of Una, who had snapped
her fingers at the Thunder Bird, calling
it a joke, a dummy, a Quaker gun.
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