“Hello?” he repeated. “Anybody there?”

From the other end came a rattling sound as the person picked the phone back up. A voice spoke through the scratchy static, a man with the one accent Tick could identify—British. “Is this . . . let me see . . . ah, yes, is this Mister Atticus Higginbottom?”

“Yes . . . this is Atticus.”

“Uh, dear sir, you were supposed to be walking about today. I mean, er—it’s a nice day to go for a walk, don’t you think? Simply smashing, really, from what I hear.” The man coughed. Tick heard the cat meow again, followed by some muffled words as the stranger covered up his end with his hand. “In a minute, Muffintops. Patience, dear feline!”

“Sir, do I know you?”

“No, no, no, not yet, anyway. But we certainly have some common acquaintances, if you get my meaning. In fact, I’m on instruction from them, old chap.”

“On . . . instruction?”

“Yes, yes, quite right. They need you to go for a walk, good man. Asked me to call you.”

“A walk? Where?”

“The usual, I suppose. What’s a young master like yourself sitting inside all day for anyhow? Got a bit of the flu, do you?”

“No, I was just . . .” But the stranger had a point. Tick should be outside on the first beautiful day of the year so far.

“Well, off you go. Not a moment to waste.”

“But . . . where am I supposed to go? Who—”

“Cheers, old boy. Only a month to go—I mean, er, a month or two, yes, that’s right.”

“Wait,” Tick urged.

The phone clicked and went silent.

Chapter

28

~

A Meeting in the Woods

Tick told his mom he had to go to the library, then headed out the door. Though he didn’t need a jacket, he’d instinctively put on his scarf, which began to scratch and make him too warm before he’d made it past the driveway.

Stupid scarf. He loosened it, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

The cloudless sky was like a deep blue blanket draped across the world, not a blemish in sight. As much as Tick loved the winter and snow, even he had to admit it was about time for some warm weather.

As he left his neighborhood and started down the road that led through the woods to town, Tick thought about the phone call he’d received. Every instinct in his mind told him it had to be Master George—in fact, he realized he’d heard the voice once before. On the tape of the third clue.

Wow, he thought. I just spoke with Master George.

Master George!

Tick felt a shiver of excitement and a sudden bounce lifted his steps. After three grueling months, things seemed to be rolling again. He just hoped he had chosen the right direction to take a walk, though he couldn’t think of another way that could possibly be classified as “the usual.”