“That reminds me, mother,” he said, quickly. “I got a letter, or package, from the post office just now, for you. Perhaps there is something in it that may help us.”
He drew from his pocket the package and handed it to his mother.
Mrs. Gordon received it with undisguised amazement.
“Erie, Pennsylvania,” she read, looking at the postmark. “I don’t know anybody there.”
“Open it, mother. Here are the scissors.”
Mrs. Gordon cut the string which helped confine the parcel, and then cut open the envelope.
“It is your father’s wallet, Andy,” she said, in a voice of strong emotion, removing the contents.
“Father’s wallet? How can it be sent you from Erie at this late day?” asked Andy, in surprise equal to his mother’s.
“Here is a note. Perhaps that will tell,” said his mother, drawing from the envelope a folded sheet of note paper. “I will read it.”
The note was as follows: