“H’m! this is dismal enough,” he commented, stirred up by the suspense.
He must have nodded and dozed for some time, Pep realized, for he awoke with a start as the knob of the room door clicked. Mr. Strapp was yawning and stirring himself.
“It’s Frank!” cried the quick-eared Pep, springing to his feet, and, half-way across the room, he faced Frank as he entered.
“Good news or bad, Durham?” asked Mr. Strapp, arising stiffly.
“The best in the world!” replied Frank promptly, his eyes snapping, his face one smile of satisfaction.
“Why, where have you ever been?” inquired Pep in wonder, for Frank’s coat was glistening with rain, his cap was dripping and his face weather beaten and flushed.
“I’ve been trying to find out something,” explained Frank, “and I have. It’s a queer adventure. There was one thing only to try in an effort to gain news of the wrecked Plymouth, in whose safety or loss there is so much at stake for us.”
“Frank, quick! Is she a goner? Is the great film——”
“Safe, I have every reason to believe,” replied Frank.
“Hurrah!” shouted the excited Pep, with a fervor that brought Randy out of slumberland and to his feet.