out the envelope from his leather-rimmed pocket. It was rectangular in shape and smaller than the ordinary business envelope. The paper was linen of a common diamond pattern, having no engraved heading. The detective ran his eyes[121] down the few lines written in an unformed boyish hand. There was neither date nor place; only these words: [121] Dear Miss Janet—Don’t you or auntie be woried about me because I am well and safe and having a good time. I had the nose bleed that is why I spoted the carpet. Tell Auntie to please pay for it out of my next week’s allowance. Be sure and don’t wory. Dear Miss Janet Your aff. friend, Archibald Page Winter. Your aff. friend, Archibald Page Winter “You’re sure this is the boy’s writing?” was the detective’s comment. “Sure. And his spelling, too.” “Now,” said Birdsall, watching the colonel’s keen, aquiline profile as he spoke, “now you notice there’s no heading or mark on the paper; and the water-mark is only O. K. E., Mass., 1904. And that amounts to nothing; those folks sell all over the country. But you notice that it is not the ordinary business paper; it looks rather ladylike than commercial, doesn’t it?” The colonel admitted that it did look so. “Now, assuming that this letter was sent with the connivance of the kidnappers, it looks as if our young gentleman wasn’t in any particular danger of having a hard time. To me, it looks[122] pretty certain he must have skipped himself; tolled along someway, maybe, but not making any resistance. Now, is there anybody that you know who has enough influence over him for that? How about the lady’s maid?” [122] “Randall has been a faithful servant for twenty years, a middle-aged, serious-minded, decent woman. Out of the question.” “This Miss Smith, your
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