It was like Jean to come straight to the point. Lite smiled faintly; he knew that question would come, and he knew that he would have to answer it.
"Sure. I made it my business to know who he was."
"Who was it, Lite?"
Lite did not say. He knew that question was coming also, but he did not know whether he ought to answer it.
"It was Uncle Carl, wasn't it?"
Lite glanced down at her quickly. "You're a good little guesser."
"Then it was that letter he was after." She was silent for a minute, and then she looked at her watch. "And I can't get at those chaps before to-morrow!" She sighed and leaned back against the post.
"Lite, if it was worth all that hunting for, it must mean something to us. I wonder what it can be; don't you know?"
"No," said Lite slowly, "I don't. And it's something a man don't want to do any guessing about."
This, Jean felt, was a gentle reproof for her own speculations upon the subject. She said no more about the letter.