"Just a moment, Mr. Hargreave," he called ironically; "just a moment!"
The man he addressed as Hargreave turned with lightning rapidity and struck. The blow caught Braine above the ear, knocking him flat. When he regained his feet the rumble of a motor told him the rest of the story.
By the dim light of her bedroom candle Florence read the note which had found entrance so strangely and mysteriously into her room. Her father! He lived, he needed her! Alive, but in dread peril, and only she could save him! She longed to fly to him at once, then and there. How could she wait till to-morrow night at eight? Immediately she began to plan how to circumvent the watchful Jones and the careful Susan. Her father! She slept no more that night.
"My Darling Daughter: I must see you. Come at eight o'clock to-morrow night to 78 Grove Street, third floor. Confide in no one, or you seal my death warrant.
"Your unhappy
"FATHER."
What child would refuse to obey a summons like this?
A light tap on the door startled her.
"Is anything the matter?" asked the mild voice of Jones.
"No. I got up to get a drink of water."
She heard his footsteps die away down the corridor. She thrust the letter into the pocket of her dress, which lay neatly folded on the chair at the foot of the bed, then climbed back into the bed itself. She must not tell even Mr. Norton.