"What do you think of that?"
Dunn took the letter. "It's to Sheratt," he said, with a puzzled air.
"Yes," cried Miss Brodie, mimicking his tone, "it's to Sheratt, from Sir
Archibald, and it means that Cameron is safe. The police will never--"
"The police," cried Dunn, hastily, getting between young Rob and her and
glancing at his brother, who stood looking from one to the other with a
startled face.
"How stupid! The police are a truly wonderful body of men," she went on
with enthusiasm. "They look so splendid. I saw some of them as I came
along. But never mind them now. About this letter. What's to do?"
Dunn glanced at his watch. "We need every minute." He stood a moment or
two thinking deeply while Miss Brodie chatted eagerly with Rob, whose
face retained its startled and anxious look. "First to Mr. Rae's office.
Come!" cried Mr. Dunn.
"But this letter ought to go."
"Yes, but first Mr. Rae's office." Mr. Dunn had assumed command. His
words shot out like bullets.
Miss Brodie glanced at him with a new admiration in her face. As a
rule she objected to being ordered about, but somehow it seemed good to
accept commands from this young man, whose usually genial face was now
set in such resolute lines.
"Here, Rob, you cut home and tell them not to wait dinner for me.
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