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 anyone?" 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, gray eyes, slight scar over left eye brow; 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." "He isn't lost," said Nannie. "We know where he is perfectly; he's at the Hotel Sole d' Oro in Riva, and that's at the other end of the lake. We're going up on the afternoon boat to join him." "Oh!" said Constance, meekly. "You take my advice," Mr. Wilder put in. "Go up to Riva if you must--it's a pleasant trip--but leave your luggage here. See this young man in person and bring him back with you; tell him we have just as good mountains as he'll find in the Dolomites. If by any chance you shouldn't find him--" "Of course, we'll find him!" said Nannie. Constance looked troubled. "Don't go, it's quite a long trip. Write instead and give the letter to Gustavo; he'll give it to the boat steward who will deliver it personally. Then if Jerry shouldn't be there--" Nannie was losing her patience. "Shouldn't be there? But he _says_ he's there." "Oh! yes, certainly, that ends it. Only, you know, Nannie, _I_ don't believe there really is any such person as Jerry Junior! I think he's a myth." Gustavo had been hanging about the gate looking anxiously up the road as if he expected something to happen. His brow cleared suddenly as a boy on a bicycle appeared in the distance. The boy whirled into the court and dismounted; glancing dubiously from one to the other of the group, he finally presented his telegram to Gustavo, who passed it on to Nannie. She ripped it open and ran her eyes over the contents. "Can anyone tell me the meaning of this? It's Italian!" She spread it on the table while the three bent over it in puzzled wonder. "Ceingide mai maind dunat comtu Riva stei in Valedolmo geri." Constance was the first to grasp the meaning; she read it twice and laughed.