'"Who in thunder is Constance Wilder?"--If that's an example of the famous Jerry Junior's politeness, I prefer not to meet him, thank you.--It's worse than his last insult; I shall _never_ forgive this!' She glanced down the page and handed it back with a laugh; from her point of vantage it was naively transparent. From Mr. Wilder's point, however, the contents were inscrutable; he looked from the letter to his daughter's serene smile, and relapsed into a puzzled silence. 'I should say, on the contrary, that he _doesn't_ want you to start immediately for the Dolomites,' Constance observed. 'It's a girl,' Nannie groaned. 'I suspected it from the moment we got the telegram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let that wretched boy get out of my sight?' 'I dare say she's horrid,' Constance put in. 'One meets such frightful Americans travelling.' 'We will go up to Riva on the afternoon boat and investigate.' It was Mrs. Eustace who spoke. There was an undertone in her voice which suggested that she was prepared to do her duty by her brother's son, however unpleasant that duty might be. 'American girls are so grasping,' said Nannie plaintively. 'It's scarcely safe for an unattached man to go out alone.' Mr. Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter. 'By the way, Miss Nannie, how did Jerry learn that you were here? His letter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o'clock last night.' Nannie examined the postmark. 'I hadn't thought of that! How could he have found out--unless that beast of a head waiter telegraphed? What does it mean?' Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders. 'You've got me!' A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed over his face; he turned to his daughter with what was meant to be a carelessly off-hand manner. 'Er--Constance, while I think of it, you didn't discharge Tony again yesterday, did you?' Constance opened her eyes. 'Discharge Tony? Why should I do that? He isn't working for me.' 'You weren't rude to him?' 'Father, am I ever rude to any one?' Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again and shook his head. 'There's something mighty fishy about this whole business. When you get hold of that brother of yours again, my dear young woman, you make him tell what he's been up to this week--and make him tell the truth.' 'Mr. Wilder!' Nannie was reproachful. 'You don't know Jerry; he's incapable of telling anything but the truth.' Constance tittered. 'What are you laughing at, Constance?' 'Nothing--only it's so funny. Why don't you advertise for him? Lost--a young man, age twenty-eight, height five feet eleven, weight one hundred and seventy pounds, dark hair, grey eyes, slight scar over left eyebrow; dressed when last seen in double-breasted blue serge suit and brown russet shoes. Finder please return to Hotel du Lac and receive liberal reward.'