“Certainly, sir!”
Mr. Sabin turned to enter his bed-chamber. His attention was attracted, however, by a letter lying flat upon the table. He took it up. It was addressed to Mr. Sabin.
“This is very clever,” he mused, hesitating for a moment before opening it. “I wired for rooms only a few hours ago—and I find a letter. It is the commencement.”
He tore open the envelope, and drew out a single half-sheet of note-paper. Across it was scrawled a single sentence only.
“Go back to Lenox.”
There was no signature, nor any date. The only noticeable thing about this brief communication was that it was written in yellow pencil of a peculiar shade. Mr. Sabin’s eyes glittered as he read.
“The yellow crayon!” he muttered.
Duson knocked softly at the door. Mr. Sabin thrust the letter and envelope into his breast coat pocket.