“A note?” exclaimed Ralph, in an astonished voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t just see why dad should send me a note, when he is here on the island himself,” said Ralph, as he took the folded paper.
“That’s just it, sir, if I may say so,” said Malvin, more obsequiously than ever; “you see, he isn’t here.”
“Not here!”
“No, sir. He left the island last night on Mr. Collins’ boat. The servant who handed me the note said that it would explain everything.”
“All right. You can go, Malvin.”
Ralph unfolded the paper and saw that scrawled on it in his father’s big, forceful writing were a few words. It was characteristic of the older Stetson that he didn’t waste words when he had anything to say. The note read as follows:
“Dear Jack: Called away to Montreal. Conference on a steel-rail deal for the new Georgian Bay Railroad. Can’t tell when I’ll be back, but get along as best you can and enjoy yourself.
“Dad.