There were some quick developments, and now Frank sat, a queerly decorated sheet of paper in his hand. On the table before him was the wallet which had disappeared four days previous with Markham.
"Tell your story all over again, slowly and carefully," said Frank to Darry. "It's something to get back that money, but it's a good deal more to find out what has become of Markham."
"Well," said Darry, "it's just as I told you. Yesterday noon in our mail we found that letter you have. As you see, it has an envelope bearing our name and address printed. We send these out when we solicit business, and I supposed it was some new customer asking an estimate on a printing job. Judge of my surprise, when I found enclosed that letter."
"Yes," murmured Frank, "it's a queer-looking affair."
"You can see how it was put together. It must have taken hours for its sender to cut all kinds of letters from a printed newspaper, and slowly and patiently paste them onto that blank sheet. Letter by letter he built up those words and sentences."
Frank once more read over the letter in his hands, which ran:
