Meekly the girl withdrew to a safer distance. From there she read with amazement the six typewritten lines which was all that the letter proved to be. They read thus:
Your father asks that, if you have any of the natural feelings of a son, you will at once leave New York and take up your residence in this city. This is the first request he has ever made of you, as it will be, if you refuse it, the last. But he earnestly begs that you will comply with it, anticipating that it will be to your decided advantage to do so.
"The envelope that that came in," said Queed, briskly laying it down. "Now here's the envelope that the twenty dollars came in—it is exactly like the other two, you observe.—The last exhibit is somewhat remarkable; it came yesterday. Read that."
Sharlee required no urging. She read:
Make friends; mingle with people, and learn to like them. This is the earnest injunction of
Your father.
"Note especially," said the young man, "the initial Q on each of the three envelopes. You will observe that the tail in every instance is defective in just the same way."
Sure enough, the tail of every Q was broken off short near the root, like the rudimentary tail anatomists find in Genus Homo. Mr. Queed looked at her with scholarly triumph.
"I suppose that removes all doubt," said she, "that all these came from the same person."
"Unquestionably.—Well? What do they suggest to you?"