Professor Brierly stood wide-eyed as he heard the news. This was more than the mere solution of a problem. His little friend had become very dear to him. He looked at the expanse of water rippling and glinting in the mid-day sunlight. Then he looked up and down the shore line. The irregularity of it at this point was such that one could not see a great distance in either direction. He stared at the growth on each side of the house. Impossible that Tommy could have penetrated more than a few yards in either direction. And Professor Brierly too, remembered that the little boy had shown a disinclination for going into the woods alone. Back of the house stretched the trail leading through the woods and fields, plowed and un-plowed, to the main road. Norah and McCall had been over that. Professor Brierly went into the house. Norah was going about distractedly from room to room, looking in impossible places for the missing boy. Matthews had gone up the road. The young man returned shortly and they all went down to the water. Jack, his usually smiling features set in lines of care, got into the canoe and paddled slowly toward the float, his eyes fixed on the water. Here, as was the case for some distance out, the water was so clear that the pebbly bottom was distinctly visible, with its tiny fish darting in flashing schools, from shadow to shadow. Jack waved his hand and went roaring toward Lentone in the sea sled. This blow, he felt, coming to his sister so soon after the late tragic loss of her husband was more than one person should be called upon to bear. He went to the post office and barely glanced at the mail and newspapers the clerk handed him. He met Jimmy as he left the post office. With set face and dead tones he apprised his friend of the calamity that had visited their camp. Jimmy, in silence, too grief stricken to think of it in terms of a story, accompanied his friend to their camp. McCall had returned without news. The group met in stony silence. Professor Brierly was absently fingering an enclosure addressed to him when he uttered an exclamation. He read it and handed it to the person nearest him, McCall. The latter read the communication aloud, all crowding in their eagerness to see it over his shoulder. There was no signature. _The boy is safe. You will hear from us. Do not communicate with the police._ The communication was on an oblong sheet of cheap notepaper, evidently torn from a scratch pad. The message was inscribed in hand printed characters. The features of the group were compounded of relief, deadly anger, hope, fear. Norah was of a sanguine disposition. She thought of other kidnappings, but she chose to dwell rather on those that ended happily. This note spelled hope. She sobbed in an access of relief, being held close in her brother's arms. Jack was clumsily and tenderly patting her shoulder, making endearing and comforting sounds.