Another day passed and no news. The same persons called and the same telephoned. Mary Louise sent Ursula a dainty tray of food and insisted upon Ben’s dining with Danny and her. Ursula could not make up her mind to leave her apartment. The moment she left might be the one chosen for some news to come from her boy. She was delighted, however, to have Ben dine with the Dexters, in fact, she endeavored to have Ben enjoy himself much as he would had Philip been at home.
“One of the shortest days of all the year,” thought Ursula, “and yet how long it has seemed.” She looked out on the darkening street. In a moment the electric lights on the corners were shining, but Ursula sat in the dusk. They lived on a quiet street where few vehicles passed. She saw an automobile stop at the corner and idly watched a man get out and start walking along the snowy sidewalk. There was nothing at all interesting about the man except that the car from which he had alighted did not move off. If he had business up this street why should he walk when he might have ridden. It was a battered car of an old make, swung on high springs, and had evidently seen better days. The light on the corner was bright and the newly fallen snow made that part of the street as visible as it would have been in broad daylight. Ursula had not turned on her burners, but peered from a darkened room.
The man walked rapidly along the street and then disappeared. The girl put her face close to the pane but could see no sign of him.
“I believe he came into this house,” she said to herself. “Ah, but there he is again!” She saw him hurry down the street, jump into the old-fashioned car and then he was gone.
Ursula pulled down her shade and turned on the light. She glanced at her watch. At least two hours must pass before Ben would be returning from dinner at the Dexters’. What could she do with those long two hours? She could not believe she was the same girl who had been busy every moment of the day and eager always for a few free moments that she might conscientiously give to reading. There were new books on her table, gifts from the friends she had made in Dorfield, magazines with the leaves uncut—but she could not put her mind on reading.
Ursula glanced about the room, her eyes wandering. A piece of white paper was under her door, put there since Ben had gone out. An advertisement, no doubt.
She picked it up. It was a letter in a dirty envelope, sealed but not stamped, addressed in pencil to Miss Ursula Ellett, in a handwriting that looked as though each letter had been painfully drawn. Ursula feverishly tore open the envelope and read:
“Yore uncle Ben is ded and you are his air. He maid a lot of money in africa on dimonds. I knowed him in africa and by rites I orter have half of his money but he cheted me. I rekon I have beet the news of Ben’s deth to the states but now I have yore kid bruther in my keepin and I will keep the same until you sware to hand over my part of what you will get as air when you come in to the same.
“Yore bruther is enjoyin good helth and hopes this finds you the same. I will not say what will hapen if you do not promis to give me half the douh. If you tell anybody about this I will beat yore bruther. All you have to do is sware you will do as I say and when you get yore hands on the money which will be handed to you by a english lawyer you put aside one half and I will let you know wat you are to do with it and at the same time you will get back yor bruther.
“The english lawyer will be in lewisville this weke. If you will do as I say and want to get yore bruther back safe you must put a ad in the lewisville currier journal and I will note the same. Just say Barkis is willin that is enuf. You are a honnerable girl and will keep yore promise if not beware. Excuse haste and a bad pen. Most respectful yore well wisher but one who Ben Benson cheted. Annonermus.”
Ursula sank on a chair. She felt that she might faint but that fainting would be a very foolish performance when action was necessary.
“Uncle Ben dead!” she cried. “I always hoped he would come back to me. What shall I do? What shall I do? Of course I’ll give half of whatever he has left me to get my Philip back. I’ll give all of it—anything.”