"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"That is just the question, sir, I was going to put."
My cousin interposed.
"Uncle Francis arrived this morning to see how things were getting on and
when I got your wire I brought him out with me. What has happened?"
"Got my wire!" I exclaimed. "Surely--I'm certain I never sent it off!"
I put my hand in my pocket, and there it was right enough.
"My dear Jack, here it is. It never was sent."
His hand dived into his own pocket and then held out a crumpled telegram.
I took it and read this message.
"Request permission to be visited by my own doctor. Hobhouse."
"Do you mean to say you never sent that off yourself?" exclaimed
Sir Francis.
"Never!"
"Then who the--!" My uncle's expression completed the sentence.
Jack Whiteclett was looking uncommonly grave.
"This is a somewhat serious matter, Roger," he said quietly. "Didn't you
write this either?"
He handed me a half sheet of paper on which was written in pencil
these words.
"GO TO DOCTOR'S. IF NO FURTHER MESSAGE THERE GO ON TO SCOLLAYS'
_IMMEDIATELY_."
It was printed in capital letters so as to give no clue to the
handwriting.
"When did you get that?" I cried.
"It was handed to me as we landed. The messenger went off again at once,
but I assumed of course it was from you.
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