He handed him a pink telegraph form with a recurrence of his odd look. Ralph noticed it, but it was not until he had glanced over the despatch that its significance burst upon him like a thunderclap. No wonder the operator had had a queer expression on his face! This was the message:
“Am under arrest here. Suspected of diamond smuggling. Don’t worry. It looks like a joke on the authorities.—Dad”
CHAPTER XX.
THINKING THINGS OUT.
“Gr-e-a-t jumping Je-hos-o-phat!”
The words fell from Percy Simmons’ lips as Ralph, in a low tone, read the despatch to his chums.
“Diamond smuggling! Your dad!” gasped Harry.
“It’s-it’s-well, it’s got me beaten!” choked out Ralph impotently.
“Here, give me a blank,” he demanded of the operator impatiently. The man shoved one over. Ralph seized a pencil and wrote feverishly. This was the message he wrote:
“Just got your despatch. An outrage. But many things that have occurred here appear to be connected in some way with your dilemma. We are beginning to get down to brass tacks. Wire me again as soon as possible to Dexter Island.—Ralph.”
There was a motor boat that brought despatches among the islands, charging a good stiff price for such service, but price wasn’t worrying Ralph just then.