But Jimmy's typewriter was gone, and his check was gone. Without a doubt the check would turn up cashed--through the operations of Jake Caslow. Brennan's voice cut into his thoughts. "You will attend school, Jimmy. You'll have to." "But--" "Oh, now look, Jimmy. There are laws that say you must attend school. The only way those laws can be avoided is to make an appeal to the law itself, and have your legal guardian--myself--ask for the privilege of tutoring you at home. Well, I won't do it." He drove for a moment, thinking. "So you're going to attend school," he said, "and while you're there you're going to be careful not to disclose by any act or inference that you already know everything they can teach you. Otherwise they will ask some embarrassing questions. And the first thing that happens to you is that you will be put in a much harder place to escape from than our home, Jimmy. Do you understand?" "Yes sir," the boy said sickly. "But," purred Uncle Paul Brennan, "you may find school very boring. If so, you have only to say the word--rebuild your father's machine--and go on with your career." "I w--" Jimmy began automatically, but his uncle stopped him. "You won't, no," he agreed. "Not now. In the meantime, then, you will live the life proper to your station--and your age. I won't deny you a single thing, Jimmy. Not a single thing that a five-year-old can want." CHAPTER SIX Paul Brennan moved into the Holden house with Jimmy. Jimmy had the run of the house--almost. Uncle Paul closed off the upper sitting room, which the late parents had converted into their laboratory. _That_ was locked. But the rest of the house was free, and Jimmy was once more among the things he had never hoped to see again. Brennan's next step was to hire a middle-aged couple to take care of house and boy. Their name was Mitchell; they were childless and regretted it; they lavished on Jimmy the special love and care that comes only from childless child-lovers. Though Jimmy was wary to the point of paranoia, he discovered that he wanted for nothing. He was kept clean and his home kept tidy. He was fed well--not only in terms of nourishment, but in terms of what he liked. Then ... Jimmy began to notice changes. _Huckleberry Finn_ turned up missing. In its place on the shelf was a collection of Little Golden Books. His advanced Mecanno set was "broken"--so Mrs. Mitchell told him. Uncle Paul had accidentally crushed it. "But you'll like this better," she beamed, handing him a fresh new box from the toy store. It contained bright-colored modular blocks. Jimmy's parents had given him canvasboard and oil paints; now they were gone. Jimmy would have admitted he was no artist; but he didn't enjoy retrogressing to his uncle's selection--finger paints. His supply of drawing paper was not tampered with. But it was not replaced. When it was gone, Jimmy was presented with a blackboard and boxes of colored chalk.