"No, no! Of course I can't guess. Tell us--quick!" cried Marcia, impatiently. "It's something wonderful, I know!" Miss Minerva made no reply, but suddenly laid a wireless telegram before them. Marcia snatched it up and read aloud: "_Change of sailing-plans. Will be home in two days._ "EDWIN BRETT." "Hurrah! hurrah!" she cried. "Father's coming! A whole two months before we expected him! _Now_ we'll hear something about the bracelet--and who knows what will happen after that!" CHAPTER XIV THE WRITING ON THE BRACELETS In the joy of seeing her father after months of absence Marcia almost forgot the mystery of Benedict's Folly. Almost--but not quite! Captain Brett had been at home twenty-four hours, and had had time to give an account of all the intervening weeks, before the subject was broached. Then the next morning, with a great air of mystery, the two girls and Aunt Minerva made him sit down and listen to the entire story. At its conclusion they produced the two filigree bracelets for his inspection. "H'm!" he exclaimed, and, whistling softly under his breath, examined them with minute care. And then, being a man of few words, he only remarked: "So you think these were once a pair?" "Why, of course!" cried Marcia. "Don't you?" "It looks remarkably like it," he conceded. "Do tell us how you happened to get yours!" she begged. "There's nothing much to tell," replied Captain Brett. "Happened to be in Hong-Kong one day, and a ragged-looking Chinese sailor thrust this under my nose and whined that he'd let me have it for two Mexican dollars. They're always trying to get rid of things like this when they want some spare cash. One never knows where they pick them up. I didn't want the trinket particularly, but I saw that it was a unique little piece and worth probably much more. So I bought it, tucked it away in my trunk, and forgot it till I arrived home, when I gave it to you, Minerva. That's all I know about it." "How long ago was that?" asked Janet. "Must have been at least twelve years ago. I'm not sure of the exact year." "But what do these things mean?" questioned Miss Minerva, pointing to the strange characters in the silver-work. "They're Chinese characters, certainly, but I don't know what they mean. You see them on lots of their jewelry and gimcracks--generally mean 'good luck,' or 'happiness,' or some such motto. Can't say whether these mean anything of that kind or not." "But tell me, Father, don't you honestly believe that if we could get these translated--find out what they mean--it might give us _some_ clue to the puzzle?" Marcia appealed to him. "It might--or it might not," he answered skeptically. "So many of these characters might be meaningless, as far as any personal application was concerned." "Well, anyway, _could_ we get them translated, just for our own satisfaction?" demanded Marcia.