Frank repacked the satchel carefully, wrote an address on a card and tied it to the handle. Then he also went to bed. The next morning Frank was astir early and was dressed before the professor awoke. The latter blinked at Frank, then at the satchel.
“H’m!” he observed. “Disagreeable impression. That satchel. Mystery, too—clouded. What you doing with it now?”
“I am sending it back to the owner, Professor Barrington,” explained Frank.
“Why, how can you do that? Do you know the owner?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Frank. “In the same connection, I have a very pleasing announcement to make to you. I have located your own satchel and expect it will be in your hands safe and sound again within the next twenty-four hours.”
CHAPTER VI
ON BOSTON COMMON
Professor Barrington jumped to his feet as though he had received an electric shock. He fumbled about for his glasses, adjusted them and then stared at Frank.
“You can’t mean it, Durham,” he declared, quaveringly. “The satchel all right? I’m to get it back?”
“Yes, sir, I promise that,” returned Frank. “I didn’t want to bother you, Professor Barrington, with all you had on your mind. Besides, I wasn’t sure of my ground until after you had gone to sleep. I will explain, if you like.”
“You’ve dazed me,” declared the professor, sinking to a seat. “I can’t understand it at all.”