Uncle Darcy let go of Richard’s shoulder and turned to the newcomer appealingly.
“Jimmy,” he said with a choke in his voice. “Look at this! The first trace of my boy since he left me, and they can’t tell me where they got it.”
He held out the compass and Mr. Milford took it from his trembling fingers.
“Why, _I_ remember this old trinket, Uncle Dan’l!” exclaimed Mr. Milford. “You let me carry it in my pocket one day when I was no bigger than Dicky, here, when you took me fishing with you. I thought it was responsible for my luck, for I made my first big catch that day. Got a mackerel that I bragged about all season.”
Uncle Darcy seized the man’s arm with the same desperate grip which had held the boy’s.
“You don’t seem to understand!” he exclaimed. “I’m trying to tell you that _Danny_ is mixed up with this in some way. Either he’s been near here or somebody else has who’s seen him. He had this with him when he went away, I tell you. These children say they took it out of a pouch that the dog found. Help me, Jimmy. I can’t seem to think--”
He sat weakly down on the sand again, his head in his hands, and Mr. Milford, deeply interested, turned to the children. His questions called out a confusing and involved account, told piecemeal by Georgina and Richard in turn.
“Hold on, now, let’s get the straight of this,” he interrupted, growing more bewildered as the story proceeded. “What was in the pouch besides the gold pieces, the other money and this compass?”
“A letter with a foreign stamp on it,” answered Richard. “I noticed specially, because I have a stamp almost like it in my album.”
On being closely cross-questioned he could not say positively to what country the stamp belonged. He thought it was Siam or China. Georgina recalled several names of towns partially scratched out on the back of the envelope, and the word Texas. She was sure of that and of “Mass.” and of “Mrs. Henry--” something or other.