"Read it and see."
"But the thing has neither beginning nor end. Was it meant for you?"
"Yes, sir. It came through the mail."
Taking the envelope from his pocket, Christopher placed it beside the letter.
Mr. Burton, however, did not heed either object.
Instead, with deliberation, he took off his glasses, wiped them and put them back on his nose. Then he lighted a fresh cigar. Even an observer less keen than his son could have detected that the major portion of his mind was still occupied by the cablegrams and dictation that had previously engaged him, and that he anticipated no very vital disclosures from the morsel of grimy paper he so gingerly took up.
Slowly he read it. Then the boy, watching, saw his figure become tense, and a flash of amazement light his eyes.
"Great Heavens!" cried he, startled out of his customary dignity. "It's from Stuart. Why didn't you say so at once?"
"I tried to tell you."
"Yes, yes. I know! But I had no idea you had anything as important as this to say. If you had only explained—"