"Humph! We haven't discovered much, Marie," dolefully exclaimed Mollie. "Hugh's room looks just like this. Nothing but clothing, old boots and shoes, and such traps," and she seized the old clothing in the corner, and threw it disdainfully to the side of the closet.
"Hello! What's this?" she slowly exclaimed, as a hollow rod of copper fell to the floor at her feet.
Stooping down, she cautiously picked it up and examined it. Marie was looking over her shoulder, brought there by her exclamation.
"There's writing on it, Mollie!" Marie cried. "There; on the side!"
Mollie turned it over, and saw the words, dim and blurred by time:
"In God's name, do not delay in opening this cylinder!"
With palpitating hearts and bated breath, the two girls stood with their eyes glued upon the inscription. Finally, Mollie, in a solemn voice, said to her companion:
"Junius has never seen this. It has been mislaid. It is our duty to send it to him at once."
"But you do not know where they will go from America," referring to Hugh and Cobb.
"True," sadly. "We may not see them for a week or more. What shall we do?" in a tone of inquiry.
"Why, put it where he will see it when he returns," answered Marie, as if there was no doubt of the propriety of the action.
"But it says not to delay in opening it," persisted Mollie.
"Yes," slowly; "it does." Then, after a pause: "Why not open it, Mollie? Maybe we may become like the good genii in the fairy tales, who always helped the poor, unfortunate prince who was about to lose his sweetheart."
"Oh, I dare not," and Mollie shook her head.
"But you must; we cannot leave it now," the other returned.
It was evident that Mollie's curiosity would overcome her scruples.
"Of course, you dare. We may do some good. At least," hesitatingly, "it will do no harm to see what that cylinder contains."
So they argued the point, and finally left the room bearing the cylinder with them.
An hour later, in the sanctity of Mollie's bedroom, and with the aid of a file which she had procured, the cylinder was opened. From it Mollie drew forth, cautiously, and with a sense of fear, a tightly-rolled paper. The cylinder was only half an inch in diameter by ten inches in length, and the rolled paper, when spread out, was simply a letter containing a few words, yet with writing as fresh as if spread upon its surface only a short time since.