"We arranged it--only for an emergency. If he could not come, or felt
it unwise, he was to send this. We did not want to worry
anyone--particularly his mother--so we didn't mention this
possibility."
* * * * *
In a downstairs club room, the men and Lylda were gathered, all of them
gazing mute and solemn as Rogers opened the cube. Much of its interior
was filled with the intricate time-mechanisms. To one side a sheaf of
manuscript pages was crowded, closely written with Loto's script.
"His message," George murmured. "I do hope he found the girl, and that
they're all right."
"I'll read it to you." Rogers' fingers were trembling as he drew out the
pages. He lighted a cigarette, steadied himself. "The first thing he
says--he's all right--"
"Of course he's all right," the Banker growled. "That boy is
resourceful."
"He wants us to know that he's safe and well. It says...."