In a few moments a round man with a shiny bald head and a fringe of black hair beneath it came bustling out of the inner office, followed by the young man.

“Hello, hello,” he said, extending his hand as he approached Frank. “I’m Edward Higginbotham. May I help you?”

“Frank Malloy,” Frank said, rising and taking the man’s hand. It was warm and sweaty, but then the day was warm and sweaty. “I’d like to talk to someone about my son.”

“Your son is deaf?” Mr. Higginbotham said.

“Yes,” Frank said, amazed at how much it cost him to admit it aloud. He’d already admitted it silently, but confessing to a complete stranger was more difficult than he could have imagined.

“Well, then, come right in. I’ll be happy to answer all your questions, and I’m sure you have a few, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for Frank’s reply. Indeed, he didn’t seem to expect one. He was too busy bustling right back into his office. Frank followed obediently.

The inner office was more elaborately furnished than the outer one. There was a rug on the floor and a nicely made wooden desk. The window looked out on an alley, but at least there was a window.

“Please sit down and make yourself comfortable, Mr. Malloy,” Mr. Higginbotham said, taking his own seat behind the desk.

Frank settled himself, and Mr. Higginbotham waited until he was comfortable to ask, “How old is your son, Mr. Malloy?”

“He’s three. We just… I didn’t realize he was deaf until… just recently.”

Mr. Higginbotham nodded sagely. “His mother didn’t notice anything peculiar?”

“His mother died when he was born.” Another costly admission.

Mr. Higginbotham looked suitably grave. “I’m sorry to hear that. Who cares for the boy, then?”

“My mother.”

“An elderly lady?”

“She’s not so old.”

“And did she not notice anything unusual about the boy?”

“We thought he was feebleminded.” Yet another costly admission. Frank was starting to feel a bit sick to his stomach. “He didn’t understand what you said to him, and he didn’t speak.”

“A common mistake,” Mr. Higginbotham agreed. “I could tell you stories about so many deaf children who were institutionalized as idiots when they were of perfectly normal intelligence. But you, Mr. Malloy, have avoided that fate for your son by recognizing his true condition. May I ask how you came to identify it?”

“A… a friend noticed. She brought it to my attention. I don’t spend much time with the boy because of my work. I’m a detective with the police department.”

Mr. Higginbotham straightened a bit at this, although not enough to give offense. “I see,” was all he said. “And you’ve had him examined by a doctor?”

“Yes. The doctor said he was probably born deaf. There’s nothing to be done for him.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Malloy, much can be done for him. We cannot make him hear in the usual sense, of course, but we can certainly educate him and teach him to communicate with others. We can even teach him a trade.”

Mrs. Brandt had mentioned that, but Frank still found it hard to believe. “But if he can’t hear…”

“May I do a little demonstration, Mr. Malloy?”

Frank nodded.

Mr. Higginbotham rose from his chair and went out of his office. When he returned a moment later, the young man from the front office was with him. “This is Alexander, Mr. Malloy.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Malloy said, wondering what the boy had to do with anything.

“Pleased to meet you,” the boy replied. Malloy noticed that the “please” still sounded like “peas.”

“Ask Alexander a question, Mr. Malloy,” Mr. Higginbotham suggested.

“What kind of question?” Frank asked.

“Any kind,” Alexander said.

“How’s the weather?” Frank tried.

“It looks like rain, doesn’t it?”

Frank noticed the boy’s speech was a bit slurred. He’d never heard anyone speak quite that way before. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?” Frank tried.

“Eggs and bacon and bread with jam,” he said with a smile. “I live at home with my mother. She feeds me well.”

Something was wrong with the boy’s voice, but Frank couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “What kind of work do you do here?” he tried.

“I’m Mr. Higginbotham’s clerk.”

The word was so garbled, Frank could only guess that he’d said “Higginbotham.” He had to listen carefully to the boy, but he could understand what he was saying, even if he had to guess at some of the words.

“Why is Mr. Higginbotham making you talk to me?” Frank asked, looking at the gentleman in question.

“Because I’m deaf,” Alexander said rather proudly.

Now Frank knew they were playing a trick on him. “Then how could you understand my questions?” he challenged.

“I read your lips.” The boy grinned proudly.

“Read my what?” Frank was very confused.

“Alexander has been trained in speech reading, Mr. Malloy,” Higginbotham explained. “By watching the way your lips move, he can divine what you are saying. Even though he can’t hear your words, he can understand them.”

“But he can talk, too.” Not perfectly clearly, of course, but well enough to make himself understood. Frank had thought deaf people were also mute.

“Yes, we trained him in speech as well. That is what we do here at the Lexington Avenue School. You may have been to other schools where they use different techniques-”

“No, I haven’t,” Frank said, still looking at the boy as if he were a wonder. Because, of course, he was. A deaf person who could speak and understand, if not exactly hear, words was a wonder of wonders to Frank.

“Well, ahem, we use the oralist methods here,” Higginbotham went on to explain. “We force the students to rely on speech reading and speaking to communicate. Then they are able to make their own way in the world.”

Frank was still looking at the boy. “Are you sure he’s really deaf?”

“Quite sure,” Higginbotham assured him with a smile.

“Oh, yes,” Alexander said, still grinning at Frank’s confusion. “I had scarlet fever when I was five. That made me deaf.”

“So you weren’t born deaf,” Frank said.

“No, but I am deaf now.” He seemed almost proud of the fact.

Frank was still mystified. He looked at Higginbotham. “How can he just look at my lips and know what I’m saying?”

“It takes years of training,” Higginbotham said, “but you are fortunate to live here in the city. Your son is a bit young for our school just yet, but when he’s older, he can come here as a day student, just the way he would attend an ordinary school. The students who live in the country have to board with us, but we feel they do better if they can live at home with their families.”

“And you think you could teach my son to talk and to read people’s lips?”

“We’d have to test him, of course, but assuming he is of normal intelligence, then yes, I think we could.”