Gregg, who was
stopping at the same hotel, and to whom Thorpe confided this mystery.
"I haven't an idea."
"What do you say to wiring and finding out? It can't do us any harm,
and might gain us an insight into the old man's plans up here."
"I should say it was a good idea."
As a result of this desire for information the following telegram was
sent to the president of the Gotham Trust and Investment Company:
"St. Johns, N'f'l'd.--Here all right. What shall I do next?----C. G."
And the answer came promptly:
"Congratulations. Send B. I. report. If in need of funds, draw.----H."
"That settles it!" exclaimed Mr. Gregg, exultingly. "Hepburn is after
Bell Island, and your friend was sent here to report upon its value.
Now, it will be a pity if the old man doesn't get his information,
which he isn't likely to do for some time with that young chap over on
the west coast. Some one ought to send him a report."
"I have a mind to do it myself," said Thorpe, reflectively.
"It would be an awfully decent thing for you to do. Be a good joke on
your friend, too, and make him fed ashamed of himself for cutting you
so dead yesterday, when he finds it out. He is bound to get into
trouble if some sort of a report isn't sent in, now that he is known to
have escaped from the wreck."
"Confound him!" exclaimed Thorpe. "I don't care how soon he gets into
trouble; nor how much.
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