“Call Dr. Philpot on the telephone at once,” he commanded. “Take this wire and rush it off,” and he dictated the telegram which made Paul so happy. “And this: “‘Captain Zachariah Bluntt, St. Johns, Newfoundland. “‘My son and Dan Rudd are safe in Winnipeg. They are coming direct to New York. Advise Rudd’s parents. “‘JOHN DENSMORE.’ “Call a taxi. ‘Phone Remington!” The telephone bell on his desk tinkled and he grabbed the instrument. “Hello! Dr. Philpot? This is Densmore. I’ve just received a wire from Paul. He’s safe in Winnipeg. Is it safe to tell Mrs. Densmore?” A pause. “Safe, you say? Just the sort of shock she needs to restore her? Good! Good! I’m going right home. Be there when I arrive. All right. Good-by. “Attend to these things on my desk, Hadden! I’m off to Toronto tonight! King Edward Hotel. Good-by.” And he rushed to the elevator, and from the elevator to the waiting taxicab, thrust a bill in the chauffeur’s hand and ordered: “The fastest you ever ran.” All speed laws were broken in the flight that followed to the Densmore mansion on Riverside Drive. Policemen waved their arms and shouted warnings, pedestrians dodged, many narrow escapes from collisions were made by a hair’s breadth, but the chauffeur knew his business, and Densmore could not ride fast enough. Dr. Philpot was waiting. “Go right up, Densmore, and tell her. I’ll follow presently,” he suggested. When Densmore entered his wife’s apartment a moment later, his face reflecting joy and excitement, she sprang to him, crying: “Oh, John! John! What is it?” “Paul’s safe,” said he, wrapping her in his arms. “He’s safe in Winnipeg, and on his way to us, Mother!” “Oh, is it true? Is it true?” she almost screamed, and began to weep and laugh hysterically as he repeated the telegram to her. Then with her head on his shoulder she wept quietly, deliciously, joyously, and the tears washed away the grief of months. “Oh, Father,” she said at length, lifting a tear-stained but happy face to his, as she dried her eyes, “it’s a miracle. But I can’t wait to see him--I just can’t!” “Well, get ready, dear, to leave on the eight o’clock train this evening. We’re to go to Toronto to meet him--if Dr. Philpot says you may.” Dr. Philpot, who had joined them to observe his patient, said she might if one of the trained nurses went too. “And,” added the doctor, “I think I’ll go with you.” An hour later Remington was announced. A load of anxiety and self-condemnation lifted from his shoulders, he, too, was in a state of happy excitement. “Come along, Remington,” invited Densmore. “We’re off to Toronto to meet Paul. You’re one of the party,” and Remington accepted. * * * * *