“Read it! Read it!” exclaimed the secretary, holding the open telegram before Densmore’s eyes.
Densmore, who had risen to his feet, read it, and leaned back heavily against the desk. Then he caught the telegram eagerly from Hadden’s hand and read it again.
“Is it possible, Hadden? Is it possible?” he asked excitedly.
“Yes,” answered the secretary with assurance. “I’ve studied the maps of that country ever since the boy’s disappearance. He’s worked his way down with natives to Winnipeg. I’m sure it’s straight!”
Densmore was quite alive now. His face was beaming, and his old-time energy had returned as by magic.
“Call Dr. Philpot on the telephone at once,” he commanded. “Take this wire and rush it off,” and he dictated the telegram which made Paul so happy. “And this:
“‘Captain Zachariah Bluntt, St. Johns, Newfoundland.
“‘My son and Dan Rudd are safe in Winnipeg. They are coming direct to New York. Advise Rudd’s parents.
“‘John Densmore.’
“Call a taxi. ’Phone Remington!”
The telephone bell on his desk tinkled and he grabbed the instrument.
“Hello! Dr. Philpot? This is Densmore. I’ve just received a wire from Paul. He’s safe in Winnipeg. Is it safe to tell Mrs. Densmore?”