"Well," said he, "you've done it clever. You've done it so mighty clever that I don't see why you come to me to help. I can't order barts about."
"No," said Miss Sally; "in this part of the business I fear you cannot help. Read that, please."
She spread open the telegraph form which she had been holding all this while, and laid it on the desk before him.
"Breward, Grand Central Hotel, Bursfield."
"'Regret to say children missing. Supposed left
Inistow Cove Tossell's boat Saturday night. Boat
found ashore Clatworthy Beach. Search parties along
coast. Will report any news.—Chichester.'"
"When did you get this, ma'am, making so bold?"
"At nine this morning. If you look, you will see the telegram was handed in at 8.37, and received here at 8.50—is it not? The sender is a Mr. Chichester, a clergyman and a friend of mine."
"Aye," said Mr. Hucks, after slowly examining the telegram and the office stamp. He raised his formidable grey eyes and fixed them full on Miss Sally.
"Oh," she said after awhile, but without blanching, "I see what's in your mind."
"No you don't," he answered abruptly. "It did cross my mind, but it's not there any longer. You're straight. And you're quality—though maybe your kind don't answer to the pictcher-books. . . . Well, about this wire now. . . . What's your opinion?"
"Why, that the children are lost."