The manager then passed his own despatch over to the boy. It read as follows:
“Mr. Charles Mellen, Manager: Spare no expense in the delivery of the message to Ben Whitcomb. If necessary, wire all stations on your circuit for information regarding aeroplanes. If Whitcomb is at Quito, kindly deliver this message in person, and warn him to be on the watch for trouble. I hope to reach your town within twenty-four hours.”
“Now for an explanation regarding my surreptitious entrance into your sleeping room,” Mellen went on. “My room is next to yours, and in order not to awaken other sleepers, and at the same time make certain that you understood the situation thoroughly, I tried my hand at burglary.”
“I am glad you did!” replied Ben. “For if there is anything serious in the air it is quite important that no stir be created in the hotel at this hour of the night.”
“That was just my idea!” Mellen answered. “I knew that if I asked the clerk to send a page to your room every person in the hotel would know all about the midnight visit in the morning. So far as I know, understand, the complications hinted at by Mr. Havens may have had their origin in Quito—perhaps in this very hotel.”
“It was very thoughtful of you,” answered Ben. “You know Mr. Havens personally?” he asked then.
“Certainly!” was the reply. “He is a heavy stock-holder in the company I represent; and it was partly through his influence that I secured my present position.”
“After all,” smiled Ben, “this is a small world, isn’t it? The idea of finding a friend of a friend up near the roof of the world!”
“Yes, it’s a small world,” replied Mellen. “Now tell me this,” he went on, “have you any idea as to what Mr. Havens refers in his two rather mysterious messages?”
“Not the slightest!” was the reply.