I opened the door a little and called his name again, trying to sound friendly. My voice was still identifiable as a boy’s, not having finished its ...eepening process yet, which was a good thing just then. I opened the door the rest of the way and looked around the room. He didn’t appear to be there until I noticed the wardrobe door slightly open.“Charlie, my name’s Finn. I’m here to help. Can I open the wardrobe door?”There was a little whimper from inside which I took as a yes. The sight. Ah, those gentlemen never choose the worst morsels; like Mere Simon's son, who has not chosen the worst strawberries. But this year," continued the horticulturist, "I'll take care it shall not happen, even if I should be forced to sit by the whole night to watch when the strawberries are ripe." Monte Cristo had seen enough. Every man has a devouring passion in his heart, as every fruit has its worm; that of the telegraph man was horticulture. He began gathering the grape-leaves which screened. More

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