“No, I can do nothing,” she whispered.
Elk came in.
“A telegram for Miss Bennett,” he said. “The messenger just arrived with it. Been redirected from Horsham, I expect.”
Dick took the wire.
“Open it, please,” said the girl. “It may be from father.”
He tore open the envelope. The telegram ran:
“Have printed your picture. Cannot understand the murder. Were you trying take photo-play? Come and see me. Silenski House, Wardour Street.”
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“It is Greek to me,” said Dick. “ ‘Cannot understand murder’—has your father been trying to take photo-plays?”
“No, dear, I’m sure he hasn’t; he would have told me.”