He finally logged in to his e-mail and opened up the INBOX, hoping that Sofia had sent him something as well. His hand froze in midair, hovering over the mouse like a cloud when he saw what waited for him.

An e-mail from someone named “shadowka2056.”

The subject line said, “Master George is crazy.”

Chapter

30

~

The Third Musketeer

Tick clicked open the e-mail, his heart pounding.

Dude, what’s up with all this stuff, man? I couldn’t believe it when I was finally non-stupid enough to search the Internet to see if there were any others like me. Can you believe all this is for real? Actually, I guess I should ask first if you’re still doing this whole mess. For all I know you burned the letter a long time ago.

My name’s Paul Rogers and I live in Florida. Ever been here? I can see that you’re from Washington—man, we’re like on opposite corners of America. How cool is that?

I don’t know what to say until I know more about what you’re up to. Have you gotten everything? Have you met Mothball and Rutger? They kept telling me I needed to go to one of the postmarked places to get another clue. I said, what do I look like, King Henry the Eighth? I ain’t made of money, dude. I finally talked the little fat man into giving me the clue anyway. Looks like there’s more than one way to skin a cat in this game.

Anyway, I’m up to Number Ten, how about you? If you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about and think I’m totally bonkers, go ahead and delete this e-mail. Trust me, you don’t wanna know.

Laters,

Paul

Tick, excited, immediately hit REPLY and typed out his answer.

Dear Paul,

I’m really glad you wrote me. I’m totally still in it, and I’m up to the tenth clue as well. Pretty easy one, right? Hands. Our hands. You can’t really pick up your own hands, but they can fit in your pockets nice and easy. It’s about time we had one that was simple, huh?

I actually did go to Alaska—it was my dad’s idea. We almost got killed, but it wasn’t too bad. We met a funny guy named Norbert who’s met Master George! And he also met some crazy lady named Mistress Jane. From what Norbert said, I don’t think I want to meet her.

There’s another one of us—Sofia. She’s from Italy and she was there, too. She didn’t almost get killed though. But she did help save us.

Man, this e-mail sounds so stupid. By the way, you can call me Tick.