A bellboy came through the lobby calling. He poked his head in the doorway, looked around, saw only the three at table, and was about to withdraw, but thought better of it. Maybe the man he wanted was in that group. He’d give one call, anyway.
“Mis-ter Hamp-ton,” he droned. “Mis-ter Hamp-ton.”
“Hey.” Jack leaped startled to his feet. “What is it?”
The bellboy advanced, holding out a telegram in a yellow envelope.
“Must be for your father,” suggested Frank.
Jack took it and read the typewritten superscription. “No, it’s for me.”
He handed the bellboy a tip, and the latter turned away. Then Jack slit open the envelope, drew out the telegram and read it. The next moment, he whirled to his companions, throwing the message down on the table between them.
“Hum. Read that. Then say nothing exciting is going to happen.”
With quickened interest, Bob and Frank put their heads together and bent to read. This is what they saw:
“Do not look for me today. Important developments. Thousand pardons.
“F.”