She began humming a gay tune, and danced across the room with arms outstretched, as though attempting to fly.
The truth came with stunning force—the poor girl was crazy! Her father, a wealthy Burlington real estate broker, had mysteriously disappeared some months before, and it was supposed that he had met with foul play. Despite the efforts of Dyke Darrel and other detectives, no clew had yet been found of the missing man. The detective had met Sibyl at her father's house, and had regarded her as one both beautiful and accomplished. To meet her as now was a terrible revelation indeed.
No wonder Dyke Darrel was stunned.
For some moments he stood in pained silence, watching the antics of the poor unfortunate.
"Hubert will come, Hubert will come," she sung, as she glided back and forth across the floor.
What had caused this awful calamity? Dyke Darrel asked this question in saddened thoughtfulness, as he gazed upon the beautiful wreck before him.
"Tell me that Hubert will come, sir, and then I won't believe that he wrote that cruel letter," cried Sibyl, in a mournful voice, pausing in front of the detective. "I cannot tell you unless you show me the letter," returned Dyke Darrel, resolving to humor her.
Quickly she drew from her bosom a letter and placed it in the detective's hand.
He drew it from the wrapper, hoping to learn something that might give him a clew to the situation.
This is what he read: