"What time is it?" shivered Daphne.
"Four o'clock," said her father and was gone.
When he reappeared ten minutes later with a yellow envelope flapping in his hand Daphne was still standing just where he had left her though obediently bundled up now in the big tweed coat.
"We are all idiots!" affirmed her father. "Everybody on the train is an idiot! Here's this message been stuck up in the dining car since nine o'clock last night and no one had wit enough to find us!"
"Is it from—Creep-Mouse?" brightened Daphne.
"Silly!" cried her father. "Creep-Mouse didn't jump off till after midnight! This is for you!"
"For—me?" questioned Daphne. With incredulous fingers she took 91 the yellow envelope and slit it end from end.
"Why, it's from John," she whispered. "John Burnarde—Mr. John Burnarde." Swaying a little where she stood she bent her bright head to the message. Then white once more to the lips she handed the page to her father.
"Read it to me yourself," said her father. "You know the man's accents and emphases better than I do and it won't make any sense to me unless I can hear the man's voice in it."
Once again the bright head bent to the page.