For a long moment the boys gazed at the note. Then Teddy reached out and took it from his brother’s unresisting hand.
“That writing,” he murmured, still with bent head. “It looks familiar. I’ve seen it before—” He glanced swiftly up. “Roy! do you recognize it? That capital R?”
Roy peered at the note again. Then his eyes narrowed.
“Reltsur!”
“That’s who! The one who sent the note to dad! So, that’s his game, is it? Well, he won’t get far! The dog, I’ll—” Teddy stopped, breathing hard. He lowered his voice.
“I hate to say it, Mr. Ball, but I think Belle and the others have been stolen—kidnapped!”
A shocked silence came over those in the room. It seemed too incredible. It was not to be believed that anything like this could happen. Why, only last week the three girls were standing in the garden just outside the window. Belle had picked a wild rose and had twined it in her lovely black hair. She and Nell and Ethel had stood there, as the boys approached, and Ethel had said “Want some nice, fresh—”
There, in the garden, were the roses. Their sweet scent drifted in through the open window. A light breeze sprang up, moving the screen door, so that the hinges creaked. Out in the yard a horse whinnied softly.
Peter Ball gulped noisily.
“Stolen, hey?” he said in a harsh voice. “You sure of that?”