like a Gull on a sand ele. He sed Hungerford was a mene sneak and had treted him bad. He told me a Lot about how Hungerford worked you fokes for sukkers and how he helped. Seems him and Hungerford was old shipmates and chums and had worked your ant Laviny the same way. Hungerford used to pay him, but now that he is flat Broke and can't help no more, he won't give him a cent. Hapgood says if you knew what he knows you'd be intterested. He says Hungerford pade him to get a hold of Tellygrams and letters that he thort you had better not see. He had one Coppy of a tellygram that he says come to him over the Tellyfone 3 days after John Doane left your house. I lent him a cupple of dollars and he gave me the Coppy. It is from John to Gertie, but she never got it becos Hapgood never told her. I send it in this letter."
Captain Dan, who had read the latter part of this long paragraph with increasing excitement, now stopped his reading and began a hurried search for the "Coppy." He found it, on a separate sheet. It was written in pencil in Hapgood's neat, exact handwriting and was, compared to Mr. Ginn's labored scrawl, very easy to read. And this was what the captain read:
"MISS GERTRUDE DOTT,
"No. -- Blank Avenue, "Scarford, Mass.
"Why haven't you written? Did you receive my letters? The firm are sending me on urgent business to San Francisco. I leave to-night. If you write me there I shall know all is well and you have not changed. If not I shall know the other thing. I shall hope for a letter. San Francisco address is--"
Then followed the address and the signature, "John Doane."
The "Coppy" dropped in Daniel's lap. He closed his eyes. Nate Bangs, glancing at him, judged that he was falling asleep, but Mr. Bangs's usually acute judgment was, in this instance, entirely wrong. So far from sleeping, the captain was just beginning to wake up.
"Why haven't you written?" That meant that John had never received the letter which Gertrude wrote, the letter which she had given him--her father--to post. Why had it not been received? It had been posted. He gave it to the carrier with his own hands.
Before the captain's closed eyes that scene in the library passed in review. He was at his desk, Gertrude entered and handed him the letter. He commented upon its address and placed it with the others, the envelopes containing bills and checks, upon the table. Then the postman came and--
No--wait. The postman had not come immediately. Serena had called and he, Daniel, had gone up to her room in answer to the call. But he had come down when the postman rang and.... Wait again! There had been someone in the library when he was called away. He dimly remembered.... What? ... Why, yes! Cousin Percy had come in and--
Daniel leaped to his feet. His chair slid back on its castors and struck the safe behind him. Mr. Bangs looked up.
"Why, what's the matter?" he cried, in alarm. "Is--Where are you going?"
Captain Dan did not answer. He was running, actually running, toward the door. Bareheaded he dashed across the yard. His foot was on the threshold of the back porch of the house, when he stopped short. For a moment he stood still; then he turned and ran back to the store again.
Nathaniel, who had followed him to the side entrance of The Metropolitan, met him there.
"For mercy sakes, Cap'n Dott!" he began. "What IS it?"
Daniel did not answer. He pushed past his perturbed manager and, rushing to the closet in which the telephone instrument hung, closed the door behind him. He jerked the receiver from the hook, placed it at his ear, and shouted into the transmitter.
"Hello! Hello there, Central!" he bellowed. "I want a long distance call. I want to talk to Saunders, Griffin and Company, Pearl Street, Boston.... Hey? ... Yes, I want to talk to Mr. Doane.... NO, not Cone! Doane--Doane--Mr. John Doane.... Hey? ... You'll call me? ... All right, then; be as quick as you can, that's all."
He hung up the receiver and, flinging the door open, dashed out into the store again, and began pacing up and down.
Nathaniel ventured one more question.
"Of course it ain't any of my business, Cap'n Dott," he stammered, "but--"
Daniel waved his hand.
"Sshh! shh!" he commanded. "It's all right. I'll tell you by and by. But now I want to think. To think, by time!"
Ten minutes later the telephone bell rang.
"Hello! Here is your Boston call," announced Central.
"All right! all right! Is this Saunders, Griffin and Company? ... Hey? ... Is Mr. Doane there?... What? I want to know! Is that you, John? ... This is Dott, speakin'.... Yes, Dan Dott.... No, no, of Trumet, not Scarford.... Yes.... YES.... Here! you let me do the talkin'; you listen."
Captain Dan ate scarcely any luncheon that day. He seemed to have lost his appetite. This was a good deal of a loss and his wife commented upon it.
"What does ail you, Daniel?" she asked anxiously. "Why don't you eat?"
"Hey? Oh, I don't know, Serena. Don't feel hungry, somehow."
"Well, it's the first time you haven't been hungry since you came back to Trumet. I was beginning to think Azuba and I couldn't get enough for you TO eat. And now, all at once, you're not hungry. What does ail you?"
"Ail me? Nothin' ails me."
"Don't you feel well?"
"Never felt better in my life. Don't believe I ever felt quite so good."
"You act awfully queer."
"Do I? Don't you worry about me, Serena. My appetite'll be back all right by dinner time. You want to lay in an extra stock for dinner. I'll probably eat you out of house and home then. Better figure on as much as if you was goin' to have company. Ain't that so, Zuba?"
He winked at the housekeeper. His wife noticed the wink.
"What is it?" she demanded. "There's something going on that I don't know about. Are you and Azuba planning some sort of surprise?"
"Surprise! What sort of surprise would Zuba and I plan? She's had one surprise in the last six weeks and that ought to be enough. Laban's droppin' in unexpected was surprise enough to keep you satisfied, wasn't it, Zuba? I never saw anybody more surprised than you was that night in the kitchen. Ho! ho!"
Azuba smiled grimly. "A few more surprises like that," she observed, "and I'll be surprised to death. Don't talk to ME about surprises."
"_I_ wasn't talkin' about 'em, 'twas Serena that started it."
Mrs. Dott was still suspicious. She turned to her daughter.
"Gertie," she asked, "do YOU know what your father is acting so ridiculous about? Is there a secret between you three?"
Gertrude had been very quiet and grave during the meal.
"No," she said. "There is no secret that I know of. Father is happy because we are back here in his beloved Trumet, I suppose."
"Humph! Well, his happiness hasn't interfered with his appetite before. There's something else; I'm sure of it. Why, Gertie! aren't you going to eat, either? You're not through luncheon!"
The young lady had risen from the table.
"You've eaten scarcely anything, Gertie," protested her mother. "I never saw such people. Are YOU so happy that you can't eat. Sit down."
Gertrude did not look happy. She did not sit down. Instead she hastily declared that she was not hungry, and left the room.
Serena stared after her.
"Was she crying, Daniel?" she asked. "She looked as if she was just going to. Ever since she came in from her walk she has been so downcast and sad. She