“Can you find him?”
“That’s another question. I’m going to make a big try. I’ll start West at once.”
“But is not Detroit a big city? How can you find him in a big place?”
“By searching. I’ll go down in the tenement district, and look for a place where I can see big chimneys. Probably there are a number of such locations—factory districts—but by keeping at it I will find him.”
“Unless they take him away again. They have evidently been traveling with him about the country.”
“Yes,” admitted Larry. “Well, I’ll get on the trail as soon as I can. Where is the envelope in which this came?”
The singer handed it to him. It was rudely made, and yet with a certain childish skill. Folded from a piece of the same paper on which the pleading note was written! Pasted together with water and bread crumbs! The postmark was clearly Detroit.
“How do you imagine he mailed it?” asked the mother.
“He must have simply addressed it, and tossed it out of the window,” spoke Larry. “Some one picked it up, and kindly placed a stamp on it, for it is clear that your son had none.”
“That is so. Oh, if I but knew who mailed it I would reward them!”