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 "Show it to him," interrupted Mr. Patello.

Wedgwood glanced quickly at the crumpled message which Mrs. Patello produced from her bag. He noticed that it had been sent off from Netherwell at half-past eight that morning.

Do please come here at once something wrong here frightened to stay come immediately Mattie.

"What can you make of it, Mr. Wedgwood?" asked Mrs. Patello anxiously. "Was there more in the telegram you saw just now?"

"No!" replied Wedgwood. "Practically the same. You're doing right in going down there."

"Such a way to go, and such a time to wait!" sighed Mrs. Patello. "We set off at once, but now there isn't a train till twelve twenty-five—twenty minutes yet. And the uncertainty—who knows what mayn't be happening!"

"Who was the telegram sent to that you saw, sir?" asked Mr. Patello. "I wasn't aware that my daughter knew anybody in your line."

"It was to a solicitor, Mr. Patello," replied Wedgwood. "Mr. Curtoise, of Portugal Street. He wired to Mortover Grange this morning enquiring about a Mr. Levigne, whose name you may have heard before. Your daughter answered the wire. She said that Mr. Levigne