Jerry Junior's letter of regret arrived from Riva on the early mail. In the light of Constance's effusively cordial invitation, the terse formality of his reply was little short of rude; but Constance read between the lines and was appeased. The writer, plainly, was angry, and anger was a much more becoming emotion than nonchalance. As she set out with her father toward the village jail, she was again buoyantly in command of the situation. She carried a bunch of oleanders, and the pink and white egg basket swung from her arm. Their way led past the gate of the Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, being under the impression that he was enjoying a very good joke all by himself, could not forego the temptation of stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nannie had heard any news of the prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an open letter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations. "We can't come to the villa! Here's a letter from Jerry wanting us to start immediately for the Dolomites--did you ever know anything so exasperating?" She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the first sentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late; Constance's eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud with gleeful malice. "'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 traveling." "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 post mark. "I hadn't thought of that! How could he have found out--unless that beast of a head waiter telegraphed? What does it mean?"