“Where in the world did you get it? Is this a case of mind reading, and did you know what I was coming back for, and go after the letter?”
“Nothing as occult as that,” laughingly answered Ned. “We simply picked it up where you must have dropped it as you paid your bill at the Haredon hotel desk.”
“That’s right!” admitted Mr. Slade. “I did pull out my wallet there to get money to settle for our room and meal. The letter must have come out with it. I’m obliged to you, Ned. This is very important—how important you can hardly guess.”
“I can in part, Dad, for I took the liberty of reading the letter. I didn’t realize what it was at first.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I should have told you, anyhow.”
“But what about a doctor?” Ned asked. “The professor said you wanted us to get one for you, and that’s why we came on with such a rush.”
“Oh, that was my fault,” explained Mr. Baker. “When we got clear of the machine, and were being brought on here by a passing motorist, I suggested that you boys had better be sent for and asked to get us a physician, as you would probably know best which medical man would suit your father, Ned, and myself. But, as it happened, we were both bleeding pretty freely, though not seriously, and the clerk here didn’t want us to wait about having any special physician. He sent for Dr. Mitchell, who did very well by us, I think.”
“The very one we would have picked out!” cried Ned. “He’s considered the best in town.”
“Glad to know we didn’t make any mistake,” said Mr. Slade. “Well, getting back this letter simplifies matters. There’s no need for you to make that trip to Haredon, Ned. Though you might, if you will, telephone the hotel clerk there and tell him I have the paper I was looking for.”
“I will, Dad. Sorry you’re so battered up.”