So once more Dick took the pencil and began to write. He preserved the same deliberate slowness in constructing the early portion of the missive, but finally began to write faster and faster, and finished it with a rush, signing his name.
“Well, the kid’s eddication seems to be all right, arter all,” observed Mat, as he admiringly watched the boy speedily scribble the last sentence. “Mebbe he is out of practice some, to begin with, and so he writes slow till he gits his hand in.”
The masked man took the letter and carefully read it over.
“Why were you so particular to say, ‘No house shelters me?’” he asked. “That yere is dead crooked. Is you trying to fool your brother up some?”
Dick actually laughed.
“I put that in just to help you out, gentlemen,” he declared. “You have been so very kind to me I should hate to see anything happen to you.”
The masked man wondered vaguely if the boy was mocking them, but decided almost immediately that he had really frightened Dick to such an extent that the young captive had put those words in to show his willingness to hold to the demands made upon him.
“Well, this will do,” nodded the wearer of the mask, folding the paper and thrusting it into his pocket. “Now, pards, just keep the boy all ca’m and quiet, and mebbe his brother comes to his senses and settles the deal, arter which we evaporates and leaves them to meet up with each other and rejoice.”
Then he strode out of the room, and his three companions followed, closing the door and leaving Dick once more to gloom and solitude.